Out For Blood
by Sincerely Tiffany
Summary: The unit unofficially takes the case when a pregnant Erin is found severely beaten and her unborn child's life hangs in the balance. As the investigation continues, what happens when it uncovers a complex conspiracy involving several suspects all with a motive of their own?
1. It Happened On A Tuesday

**Tuesday, 1:15pm**

Since she started showing, Erin found resting her hands upon her round belly to be somewhat of a comfort. She found that when she's upset or anxious, her baby would kick as a reminder to calm down, to take it easy and think about the bundle of joy she'll deliver in at least five weeks. At 32 weeks pregnant, the doctor warned and was absolutely right about the shortness of breath and heartburn she'll experience as a result of her growing baby crowding her stomach and pushing up near her diaphragm. She's lucky enough to not have experienced any lower back pain yet, but with her due date a little over a month away, she knows it'll come eventually. She's clumsy and she's hormonal and all she can think about is her fear of giving birth. The closer she gets to her due date, the more her concerns grow; there's so many things that can go wrong and the stress of it all isn't good for her or the baby, but there's one solace that grants her mind the escape from worrying about cord prolapse, slow labor, placenta previa, nuchal cords, placental abruption, fetal distress and so much more. The list is endless, but that one solace is work.

Yet, Hank Voight, her foster father and boss is sending her home in the middle of the day.

At 32 weeks, she's carrying a healthy baby. The doctor expects no complications, yet her boss sends her home to rest because she yawned once and yelled at Jay for drinking coffee when she had to cut off the beverage the second she found out she was growing his offspring. She may have cursed at Ruzek because he complimented her on how she's carrying her baby weight and because she had a glow about her that Erin swears is just sweat. She may have thrown Atwater's sub sandwich away the second he re-heated it because her nose is super sensitive and the smell of onions made her almost puke. She ignored Dawson the moment he started giving her advice and tips on what Laura used to do when she was pregnant. And she kind of shot Mouse an evil look the second he noticed her struggle to get up from her desk chair because her belly continues to get in her way. The arms of the chair only helped somewhat but the fact that the chair rolled made it difficult. So everyone in the unit pretty much had to walk on egg shells around her.

Months ago she agreed to desk duty, but she would not agree to being sent home. Not now. Not when her mind runs rampant with thoughts and she's fallen victim to pregnancy brain.

Erin had expected at least one person to defend her right, her need to stay at work, but no one said anything. Burgess stayed quiet because a few days ago she had asked to rub Erin's belly and it happened to be the hottest day of the summer and the air conditioner at the district had went out and the woman of the hour was uncomfortable and drenched in sweat and Kim had half a mind to ask to rub her stomach after the baby kicked. It was harmless. It was a question asked at the worst possible time. On any other day, she might have said yes, but that day she could barely register her comment before she laid into the other female detective about being constantly hot and about how her question was insensitive and just plain stupid. Burgess kept her distance after.

Lindsay looked around the bullpen the moment Hank repeated his order; he's sending her home to rest, to cool off and to prepare for her bundle of joy. She looked to Jay, hoping that he understood the look in her eyes that begged him to speak up. And he did just that, but he was on the wrong side, "Erin, I think Voight is right," his words are cautious because he's absolutely terrified of her right now, "just here me out baby," he mutters the second she gears up to argue, "it has been a slow week, hardly any cases and we're just here twiddling our thumbs to pass the time. It'll be good for you to go home, get off your feet and rest," he moves towards her, hands taking a chance to settle on her stomach, "and when I get off I promise I'll pick you up a whole jar of pickles, a bag of the saltiest potato chips and the greasiest deep dish pizza I can find."

Now Erin couldn't possibly reject that offer; it was a pregnant woman's dream. And after licking her lips and nodding eagerly, she pulls out of his arms as she goes to grab her keys. She ignores the sighs of relief that comes from the team around her as she goes to hug Voight, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, kid," he hugs her back, rubbing circles into her back in an effort to reassure her, "now go home, take care of yourself and that baby of yours."

 **1:45pm.**

For some reason, the protectiveness of her husband increased the second she told him she was pregnant. It skyrocketed the moment she showed him the plus sign on the five sticks she peed on. And the rate of his protectiveness only went up with each month that passed, each doctor's appointment they had and each kick from the baby inside of her. He couldn't help himself. It's why he forced her to tell Hank when she was only eight weeks along, not even close to the second trimester. It's why when she wakes up at three in the morning craving the one snack they don't have in their house and threatens to drive to get it herself, he sends her back to bed as he ventures outside in the dead of night. It's why he painted the entire nursery –with help from Adam- when she was out to dinner with Kim because he didn't want the fresh paint fumes anywhere near her. It's why he has multiple copies of a printed list of foods that cannot and should not be eaten by pregnant women held up by a magnet on the refrigerator in their kitchen and folded in the glove compartment in both her and his vehicle. It's why his hand is always resting on some part of her body –typically her back- when she's walking, or more often going up and down the stairs. And it takes every fabric of her being to allow him to leave it there, to guide her down the outside of the precinct steps and up to the driver's side of her car.

"Go straight home Erin," he asserted just as she turned to face him; she leaned back against her closed car door as his arms moved to wrap around her waist, "I'm serious."

"Where else would I go?" She teased. And when his expression didn't change, she leaned forward and rose to the tip of her toes to kiss the frown away, "of course I'll go straight home. You should really consider loosening up a little, _daddy_."

And she knew that would get him, she knew that would make him smile like it always did. It was something about hearing the title that his baby will call him; he won't be Jay, or detective or Mr. Halstead to his kid; he'll be daddy. Jay leaned forward and pressed his lips back against hers, raising his hand to wrap in her long tresses, "I love you."

"I love you too," she slowly pulled away, but her hand remained gripping his long-sleeve, dark gray Henley shirt, "and if you promise to be home in the next two hours with my food, I'll show you just how much I love you."

"You have my word," he eagerly pressed his lips against hers again and for some reason his hands found their way back to her stomach; it was like a magnetic pull that he couldn't resist.

"I could always wait for you to get off."

He reached beside her to grab the handle of the door, "Nice try."

Erin gave him one last kiss before stepping to the side to allow him to pull the door open. As protective as always, he holds her hand and helps her slide inside, "Watch your head."

"This is not my first time getting inside a car," she commented and while she tried to sound mad or upset about it, she really couldn't because he was just so hot and adorable when he worried over her. It just made her want the two hours to go by faster so he can come home.

"Can you blame a guy for worrying?" His arm rest against the top of her opened car door, and he gives her his signature smirk that she's pretty sure led to the bun in her oven, "you can't really blame me though Er, you're carrying some precious cargo." And if she wasn't already seated in the car and buckled in, he would have reached to touch her stomach.

"I can't blame you for worrying which is why I haven't bitched about it," he gives her a look and she amended her statement, "which is why I haven't bitched about it _too much_."

"That sounds much better."

"Ugh," she groaned, feeling around the side of her seat to find the automatic adjust, "Jay, do you know how irritating and completely embarrassing it is when I get in the car and have to adjust my seat because my belly grew bigger in a day?"

"It'll all be over soon," he soothes her cautiously because he never knows the right thing to say, "you have at least eight weeks left until you reach full term."

"That does not sound like 'soon' to me," she grumbled, shoving the key into the car with a bit more force than is necessary.

"Call me when you get home," he closes her car door.

And she rolls down the window after starting her car, "Okay, let's not pretend like you're not going to go straight back to the bullpen and call me."

 **2:04pm.**

Erin lived in the moments when she was right. She sat in her car, rolled up the windows and locked the doors, watching as Jay went back into the building and waiting for the inevitable phone call she knew would come eventually. It took less than five minutes. And it was the only reason she hadn't driven off yet because she connected her phone to her Bluetooth and stuck the device in and around her ear.

"I'm on my way home, Jay," Erin laughed because she kind of predicted what he was going to say, "You can quit your worrying. I should be home in like fifteen minutes."

"That soon?"

"Yeah, well it is the middle of a work week in the middle of the day. I'm avoiding rush hour."

Jay leaned back, the phone resting between his ear and shoulder as he listened to her talk about whatever crossed her mind. She had grown more talkative since she became pregnant and he knows that isn't a symptom but it is a symptom of happiness and maybe that's just all it is. Erin is happy. And when she's happy then he's happy.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He blinked out of his reverie when he'd been caught, "I'm always listening to you."

"Oh yeah," she didn't sound like she believed him, "then what did I say?"

She didn't believe him at all.

And with good reason because he couldn't give her an answer, but she wasn't mad, she simply laughed because she knew her husband more than anyone.

"I said I can't wait to get home and take a nice, hot bubble bath." Erin stopped at a red light.

In order to avoid a car accident that would cause a two-mile car pileup, she went around the city instead of through it. The only thing about avoiding the highway was the multiple red lights she found herself constantly stopping at because she continued to miss the green lights. He pulled away from the conversation when he heard the rasp in Voight's voice notify them of a case that just hit his desk –a car accident on the highway. The same car accident that pushed Erin to take another route home –thank God. There were no witnesses. No casualties. No injuries. It could have been handled by another department but they had nothing else to do so Hank offered, especially because something wasn't right about it. A car accident but no one was found in the car that caused it. It bumped into other cars, caused for them to go off the road, only for the car that started it to catch on fire and practically blow up on I-94.

The light turned green and she drove only to miss the next light three minutes from the last one. This time though, she wasn't the only car out on the desolate road; there was one other car also stopped at the red light. A road filled with traffic lights every few minutes but surrounded by trees, streams and tall grass. It was the scenic route that would turn her normally 15 minute drive from the precinct to her house into a 45 minute one. Because of the car accident on the highway, it would still get her there quicker than if she drove her usual route. Erin pulled up behind the car and sighed, "I'm almost home if you need to get off the phone."

He didn't want to get off but the team was staring at him, "Alright…if you're sure."

"Jay, I'm like 30 minutes from home; that's if I don't get caught at the rest of the red lights."

The light turned green and she moved forward the second the car in front of her did. It was going slow, too slow and she was growing frustrated because they had to be driving under the speed limit. Ruzek calls his name, but Jay tells him to hold on.

"The car in front of me is going to cause me to miss every traffic light," she grumbled and rolled her eyes when her husband snickered on the other end, "and not to mention," she pauses when she hears air –the air specifically from her tires- release, "Jay," she sighs in defeat and then presses her hand down upon the horn when the light turns green and the car in front of her remains parked. It doesn't move. And for some reason she hears Jay talking to Adam in the background telling him he needs a moment with his wife before coming back.

"Babe, I have to go. We got a case," he's quick to say, "Text me when you're home. I love you!"

"But Jay, I-" he hangs up before she can finish her sentence yet the sentence still comes out in a whisper, "I think I got a flat tire."

Erin redialed her husband's number but he doesn't answer. And the one time she needed him to be his protective and overbearing self, he doesn't. She calls Hank, then each member of her team. No one answers. And she had an account with Triple A but she doesn't have her information on her and she didn't have the number programed into her phone like Jay told her to do months ago and as she steps out of her car to check the damage, she realizes that all four tires are flat and she only has one spare. Her phone is held tightly in her hand as she walks around her car, brushing her fingers over the slowly decreasing pressure in her tire.

"Weird," she whispered under her breath; one flat tire is normal, four flat tires are suspicious.

She stops at the back of her vehicle, glancing down at the back, passenger side tire. And when she hears the sound of multiple car doors slamming shut, it raises that suspicion when she looks up and sees three men walking towards her. She stopped carrying her gun when it became too uncomfortable to wear in its holster with her protruding baby bump getting in the way. She was defenseless. And as the two men continued to approach her, she moved quicker than what could be expected of a woman 32 weeks pregnant and she ran around the back of her car in an effort to get to the driver's side where the door remains open only to have it pushed shut when she's a few feet away. Her hand naturally gravitates towards her bump when she sees his face, "You're not supposed to be anywhere near me," her voice doesn't waver like she expects; instead it remains strong and firm with a hint of anger in it, "You're supposed to stay away from me. What are-"

And her words are cut off the second his fist connects with the side of her face. Her phone drops when her hand naturally comes up to cover her cheek. She looks at him in shock and before she could fully register what had happened another hit comes and then another and another and one of the other two men grabs the back of her neck and uses his physical build to slam her into her car. She falls to the ground, face bloodied and vision blurred as her hands feel around in search of her fallen phone. She spots it and she crawls in a desperate attempt to get to it but whatever faith and hope she felt disappeared the second a shoe kicks it away.

Erin was never one to give up. Any thought about giving up was fleeting the second she felt that kick, that sweet, innocent kick from her baby inside, pushing her to fight. And fight she did when one of the men gripped her arms and pulled her to her feet; she shoved, kicked, stomped down on toes, shoved her fingers in eyes, spit, bit, elbow and did everything possible to defend herself. It didn't work. It didn't last. Her stomach kept getting in the way. The men outnumbered her. One of them shoved her into the ground and laughed when she landed on her stomach, another turned her over onto her back and kicked her while the last guy, the man that she knew, the man who was supposed to stay away from her landed punch after punch upon her already bleeding and bruised body and she couldn't find the words to speak, to scream out for help on a road she knew not many people ventured to and to beg. Instead, she curled into a fetal position, doing every last attempt to shield and protect her baby.

His assault continued, she felt someone grip her by the back of the head, pulling it back, only to shove it forward against the pavement. The assault continued and he laughed the moment she lost the battle of consciousness when her vision became spotty before being submerged in total darkness. They all laughed at that, especially when he wiped his knuckles upon her blouse. He rose back to his feet and turned towards the two men he befriended recently.

"Dump her somewhere." He spit on her; it landed somewhere in her bloody hair.

Each man nodded and one grabbed her arm as the other grabbed her leg and they dragged her as if she was a piece of dead weight, as if she was a sack that needed to be moved. Her face scratched along the concrete and gravel as they pulled her down the street, into the forest and released her form to watch it roll down a small hill. Each man wiped their hands as the guy in charge approached and peered down the hill, smirking at his and their handiwork.

 **3:16pm.**

Traffic began moving at a regular pace the second forensics arrived to the scene. Photographs were taken, individuals involved in the accident were questioned –even though they saw nothing, the scene was cleaned and traffic was able to move and this all felt like a waste of time. When it was deemed that there was nothing much they could do after fire fighters took out the fire that ruined their only piece of evidence, Intelligence regrouped.

"I'm transferring the case," Hank grumbled because this all was a wasted trip.

Jay checked his phone for the umpteenth time since he arrived and neither time went unnoticed by the team. Yet, it was Voight who voiced it, "Does something have your attention, Halstead?"

"Yeah," he whispered, shoving his phone back in his pocket, "It's just Erin. She hasn't text me back yet and she should have been home by now."

"…maybe she fell asleep?" Atwater offered a possibility that Jay had already considered.

"Or she could have been stuck in all of this traffic?" It was Ruzek this time who added his input.

"She didn't go this route," Jay followed the team back towards where they parked; "she purposely avoided it because she heard about the accident."

"Alright then," Voight asserted, throwing open his driver's side door, "we'll do a drive by your house and we'll go the way she went just to check up on her."

"Checking up on Lindsay; she's not gonna like this at all" Ruzek joked.

And it was in that moment that a jogger turned onto the pathway in the forest and began to pick up his pace. He felt the sun beat down on him; his white shirt was covered in sweat and he had only started his jog ten minutes ago. His feet beat against the dirt pathway in the woods; his breathing was even and spaced out and he was a natural at all of this. He tries to jog at least once a day after work and today was no different. He picked up his speed, taking advantage of the silence and the peace. He lived a few miles away but he didn't mind driving the few miles in order to enjoy a nice jog at a location that not many people know about; this is the perfect place.

Yet that moment is ruined the second he sees her feet, cut and scratched by the twigs and branches during her tumble down the hill. He comes to an abrupt stop and almost twists his ankle when he does it, "Hello," he calls out, taking a cautious step forward and that's when he sees her legs; her jeans are covered in dirt, blood and grass stains, "Miss," he calls out and a nervous waver sounds in his voice, "are you okay?" He knows the answer to that question but he fears coming to terms with it.

The young man, the 23 year old, closes in the distance the second he sees the large amount of blood, "Shit," he muttered under his breath, rushing up to her; he lowered himself to his knees and rolled her from her side onto her back, "Miss, can you hear me? I'm going to get you help!"

The man stood up and ran as fast as he could; he never brought his phone on jogs because he wanted to focus and appreciate the silence. He didn't want the distraction. And never in a million years did he think it was going to come back to bite him in the ass. He left the forest and started waving his arms around in search of another car; he doesn't see one.

For a second he starts to forget where he parked, but then it comes back to him. He takes off down the road, "Help!" He's screaming as he runs even though he knows no one is around, "Somebody please help! I need some help!" And the only reason he comes to a stop, the only reason he stops yelling is because he sees three trucks turn onto the road. He throws his arms back into the air and start to run in their direction –the opposite direction of his parked car, "Help! Help," he flags them down and sighs in relief when the truck leading the other two cars comes to a slow stop, "I…I," he's completely out of breath, "I need you guys to call the cops and an ambulance! I was out jogging! I left my phone in the car! Call an ambulance! It's a woman…she…she needs help! Come on," he waves for them to follow him and before any of them registered everything he said, they're out of the car, keys remain in the ignition, phones in hand as they all place separate phone calls. Someone's calling an ambulance while someone else calls it in to forensics. They're racing, stumbling in an untouched forest with roots and branches tripping up their feet.

The man keeps looking back, half expecting them to disappear while at the same time making sure they remained close, "She's over here!" He turns and starts to head towards the bush and that's when he started to fear that it was all an illusion, that he truly didn't find help and the heat was causing him to hallucinate because he didn't hear them anymore, he didn't hear walking, or deep breathing, or calls made to police and paramedics. He heard nothing. And if he didn't turn to look back at them, he would have thought none of it happened.

"She's right here," his shout snaps them out of whatever realm they were in and they all moved fast; they all moved at once towards her.

Olinsky kept the jogger back, asking him questions that young man wasn't equipped to answer. Ruzek was on the phone with EMTs, requesting one as soon as possible; he struggled to tell their specific location since they were off the main road, hidden in a forest. Dawson was on the phone with forensics, demanding that everyone who wasn't currently working a case get their asses to his location. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

This can't be happening, Jay thought. Halstead is in shock, too out of focus to notice the movement around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that Voight is checking for a pulse and comments on the weakness of it. He sort of registers Burgess on her knees, whispering reassurances to his unconscious wife. And he kind of hears the jogger in the background, talking to Al about how he discovered her. He couldn't handle this. This cannot be happening became his mantra as he heard Kim shout his name, "JAY!"

He looks scared. He's terrified. The only reason he knows he hasn't stopped breathing is because he hasn't passed out yet. His eyes scan her body and his hands float mere inches above her in search of where to touch her. From her toes to her face, she's hurt and injured and bruised and the complete left side of her head is swollen and covered in scratches, bruises and blood.

"Baby," he whimpers; his hand comes to cradle the right side of her face because that seems to be bruised the least, "Baby," he leans his head in, gently pressing his forehead against hers as the tears from his eyes fall upon her head, "Baby."

His hand falls upon her stomach and he closes his eyes as he waits for the inevitable kick, the kick he knows comes every time Erin's in distress or needs comfort. She needs a lot of comfort and she needs the kick of her baby to get it; Jay admits that he needs it too, but when it doesn't come, his heart stops. He pulls his head away from his wife's head and moves it towards her stomach, leaning forward to place his ear against it. He truly doesn't know what good it'll do but he does it anyway. He closes his eyes, face resting on her belly, arms spread out over her and cries; he cries until his body starts to shake and spasm, he cries until he can hardly breathe and he cries until he hears the sirens of the ambulance pull up.

 **3:47pm.**

Everyone was shouting at once and he could barely make out who was saying what: "Clear the hallway! BP is 180/95! Clear the hallway! Page her OBGYN!"

Jay is trying to keep up, but he's having an out of body experience. He's moving, following the gurney, listening to the shouts from the paramedics, but he can't talk; he can't do anything because his wife is dying and his baby might already be dead. He can't breathe; he can barely walk and keep up, he uses the wall of the hospital corridor as guidance as he follows.

"29 year old pregnant female; assaulted and found on the side of the road. We don't know how long she's been there but it hasn't been more than two hours," that last piece of information was given to the paramedics by Burgess at the crime scene.

The crime scene, he thinks, his wife is the victim of a crime. The crime scene revolved around her and his baby; the same baby that's fighting for their life alongside their mother. He woke up this morning a husband and soon-to-be father and now all of that might change; he may go to bed tonight a widow and childless. His heart clenched at the thought.

Jay didn't know what to do. He couldn't keep still; he paced back and forth beside the gurney. Not once did his eyes leave the body of his wife. He wanted to help, he just didn't know how. He needed to do something, anything; he was growing desperate. Medical jargon was spoken by the nurses and he couldn't understand; it was all a foreign language to him. All he could make out was the paramedics filling the ER nurses in on his wife's current condition; he didn't know what any of it meant though. BP is 180 over 95. Was that good? Bad? Normal? Abnormal? He needed a translator just to break the medical lingo down into layman's terms.

Halstead finally got some sort of reprieve when he felt the hand of his brother wrap around his wrist. Will had come right on time, but it was obvious that when Jay stopped pacing and met his brother's eyes, his brother didn't know. He had no clue. His gaze held confusion; his eyes scanned him, from top to bottom, locking in momentarily on the blood stains on his clothing. Will checked his brother for injury and upon realizing that there were no open wounds to match the amount of blood soaked into his clothes, he released a relived breath of air, only for his airway to choke up by the realization that while the blood may not belong to his brother, by the look on Jay's face and the panic in his eyes, it belonged to someone they know, someone they love. And for a split second the question crossed his face and fortunately enough for Jay, he didn't have to answer it because Will's gaze fell behind him.

His eyes fell upon Erin, his sister-in-law, being approached by Dr. Rhodes who was currently being debriefed on her stats by the ER nurses. Will was at a loss for words. He's speechless. His brain couldn't even formulate a sentence nevertheless actually get the sentence out.

"Hi Erin," the gloved hand of Dr. Rhodes gently stretches her eye open; he flashes a light and observes the change in her pupil, "She's in pain. Give me 10mg of morphine," he examines the other eye, "Pupils are dilated; I'm suspecting a brain bleed and swelling. I need an OR. NOW! Erin, can you hear me? You're at the hospital now. We're going to take good care of you and your baby. We'll start with relieving you of some of this pain." She doesn't answer. She doesn't respond, or blink, or squeeze his hand and her chest is moving so slow that if Rhodes' didn't press his ear to her chest, he wouldn't think she was breathing. He stands up straight and slowly lifts her shirt, "She has major abdominal bruising, lacerations and she'll need stitches," he glances at Maggie who stands to his left, "Page Natalie; update her and let her know which OR we'll be in, she'll need to do a sonogram. We need to see this baby!"

The wheels of the gurney start to move as they rush it down the hallway. Jay is close on their heels, Will following right behind, staying near the head of the gurney as his wife is pushed through the hospital. The swinging doors open and close with each person that enters and the rest as follows happens so fast: a mask is placed over her mouth and nose to supply her oxygen, IVs are hooked up to her arms and suddenly she's starting to crash.

"Hang in there sweetie," Maggie whispered, combing her fingers –covered with blue latex gloves- through her dirty blonde, speckled with blood, hair.

Dr. Rhodes shouted Code Blue. Jay didn't know a lot of medical jargon but he knew what that one meant.

Will finally, _finally_ , snaps out of whatever haze he'd fallen into in order to help his brother. Jay needed him right now. It wasn't his time to react; it was his time to comfort. He gripped his brother's arm and tugged him towards the direction of the waiting room, "You shouldn't see this," his words fell on deaf ears because Jay kept watching, kept struggling against his brother's hold to get back to his wife's side, "She's in the best hands. Dr. Rhodes is amazing and Natalie will be here at any second and you know she won't let anything happen to your baby."

"I…" for the first time since Will approached him he spoke, "I can't just leave her." And Will probably would have preferred for him not to speak at all because the sound of his brother's voice, the pain, the defeat, the hurt, the ache in his tone was a punch to the gut.

"She won't be alone," Will tried to comfort his brother.

"I…" the tone of his voice remains, but now there's a far off look in his eye as he watches the doctor and nurses attempt to stabilize his crashing wife; it's been too long. She's been crashing too long. No matter how much it hurts to watch, Jay couldn't tear his eyes away, "I can't just leave her," he simply repeated his earlier remark and it was no less powerful than the first time.

"You shouldn't even be back here. Come on, we need to go to the waiting room."

Will tugged on his brother's arm, but Jay didn't follow. His feet were planted to the ground. The far off look in his eye scared him. He hadn't ever seen his brother like this before; not after their mother died, not after he came back from serving in the military and not after they had multiple run-ins with their father. This was a new look; this was a look brought out by this moment, by the assault that happened to his wife.

"Dr. Rhodes," Jay called out and wasn't surprised when the doctor didn't look his way; his wife kept his attention but it didn't stop him from making a very clear and assertive statement, "You better save her." And in a brief second, Dr. Rhodes looked up to meet the desperate eyes of his patient's husband and after an affirmative nod and a whispered promise, he got back to work.

He shouldn't have promised. You never promise. It's the first thing he learned in medical school and at residency. It's what was drilled into his head during his residency and fellowship.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long time, his wife was stabilized. Time was of the essence. They needed to immediately start surgery to see all of the internal damage the assault had caused and that specifically Jay knew he couldn't watch no matter how much he wanted to stay by her side. He allowed his brother to lead him away, to walk alongside him back to the waiting room where everyone on the team sat and waited and only rose to their feet at the sight of him.

"How is she?" Atwater was the only one emotionally strong enough to ask.

Jay didn't answer. He just gave an aggressive shrug because he didn't know. It was only the start to what's going to be a long surgery, -at least four hours.

"It's suspected that Erin has a brain bleed among other things but that's the biggest concern. As of right now, she's going to be taken to get a head CT scan and once that's complete then Dr. Rhodes will know for sure what needs to done to help Erin."

"I thought he was going to immediately start surgery," Jay spoke up and this time his voice was different; he sounded angry, heated, irked and irate, "Does Dr. Rhodes know what he's doing? If all the signs point to a brain bleed then it's probably a fucking brain bleed! The longer he waits to fix it then the worst it'll be for my wife!"

"Hey, hey," Will softly whispered, gripping his brother's shoulders to force him to face him, "I need you to know that Dr. Rhodes is one of the best. He's smart. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want to just dive into surgery on a hunch; he needs to know what part of the brain is bleeding so he can treat it. Surgery is risky and he just wants to make sure he has all of his T's crossed off and all of his I's dotted. Erin is in safe hands."

 **4:52pm.**

In all the time that has passed, all Jay knows is his wife had to be taken in for surgery. The CT scan proved what Dr. Rhodes had suspected. It had also shown him the location and size of the brain bleed and then anything after that fell on deaf ears because he couldn't bring himself to focus, to clear his mind and hear whatever else he had to say. It was just about the next step; they had estimated that the surgery would last no longer than five hours and no less than three. A few nurses had suggested he go home, clean up and rest but he couldn't bring himself to move, to leave the waiting room and the uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs that were made to manipulate people into leaving since they were so uncomfortable that no one would want to stay.

He didn't see it as a choice. He was staying. He couldn't leave until he knew for sure the two people who mean everything to him were going to be okay.

Natalie had only come out with one update, one measly, small update that meant nothing. It's too soon to tell. She'll know more on the baby's status once the surgery is finished. It's all touch and go from this point on but she does know the baby is still alive, whether or not the baby will survive this, she wouldn't say, she wouldn't promise, -not like Rhodes did earlier.

"I don't understand," Burgess spoke up, filling the isolated waiting room with her tired and weary voice, "Who would do this? And to Erin of all people?"

In all this time, Jay had managed to keep his mind off of that. He was too focused on the fact that his wife and child were back there in some sanitized room being operated on. He had forgotten, or he had simply been too distracted by them to focus on the fact that someone put her in this situation in the first place. This wasn't some freak car accident or an accidental fall. This appeared to be targeted. No one just assaults a pregnant woman without any type of motive.

With every curse word uttered under Kim's breath, Jay felt his heart rate increase and his hands ball into fists. Before he knew it, before he was able to control it, his hand slammed against the innocent end table and his foot kicked one of the plastic chairs. It caused a loud bang, loud enough to alert everyone in the waiting room to his rising anger.

"Whoever did this," he turns to face Hank, "whoever did this is going to pay, Voight. I swear on my life. I swear on everything and everyone I love that if I lose them…." He doesn't even finish his threat because everyone in the room gets where he's going with it. And Hank is the first one to agree; he feels the same way and he already has a burial space in mind for the transgressor.

Jay felt like he was going through every stage of grief –minus acceptance. He felt like they were on a constant cycle of repeat: denial, anger, bargaining and depression. The stages wouldn't always go in order. One point he'll be in denial about what happened and then jump straight to bargaining before going back to denial and then to depression and then anger and it was all a mess but he couldn't control himself. For a man who likes and cherishes order and control, he was lacking both right now. Jay kicked the same chair again, choosing this innocent piece of furniture to be the victim of his rising emotions rather than someone in the room.

"Halstead," he heard Al's voice; his voice sounded wrecked with a hint of frustration, "I know you're upset. You have every right to be, but you need to calm down and keep your head on straight. Erin wouldn't want you arrested for destruction of property. It's the last thing any of us need right now so relax, take a deep breath and relax."

That's easier said than done.

"You don't understand," Jay whispered in defeat.

"I think if there's anyone who does understand it's me and Voight," Olinsky retorted, arms crossed over his chest in defense, "we both loss our children."

"I'm losing my wife _and_ my baby!" his voice sounds breathless; it's a choked up cry that threatens to come out but he won't allow it. He's afraid that once he opens up that emotional floodgate it won't stop pouring out.

"…they're still alive, Jay, they're still alive," it's Dawson who attempts to console his friend with a hand to the shoulder, "Erin's a fighter and that baby of yours has Lindsay and Halstead blood which means the baby will fight like hell too. They're going to be alright."

"With no help from us," Halstead spat, shoving Dawson's hand off his shoulder. He really shouldn't be burning his bridges right now but considering the situation, everyone expects this. His fluctuating mood isn't the furthest from normal, "She wanted to stay at the precinct but you sent her home," his eyes fell upon Voight who'd been unusually quiet throughout the whole ordeal, "he sent her home because all of you were complaining! She was _pregnant_ ," his voice cracked on that last word, "and none of you could handle a few mood swings! This is just as much your fault as it is mine!"

"It's no one's fault," Mouse interjected, making his way towards his closest friend, "it's especially not your fault. The only person that's to blame is the person who did this."

And Jay was prepared to counter that, to argue that she had pleaded to stay and they'd sent her home in the middle of a week day against her wishes. He had time to drag this debate out but the sight of two detectives walking into the waiting room had silenced him; it silenced all of them.

"Are you Jay Halstead?" One of them approached him and asked; he nodded and the detective continued, "I'm Detective Rixton and this is my partner Detective Upton, we've been assigned to your wife's case. We're here to ask you a few questions."

"We're going to work this case," Hank said through gritted teeth, "we're just waiting on word about Erin." The glare in his eye forced the detectives to take a step back, but they remained, they still stood their ground, just from a distance.

"I'm afraid that you all can't work the case," Hailey hesitantly informed. She heard about Voight. Actually every detective and precinct in Chicago has heard about Hank Voight and the rumors on what he did to the man responsible for his son's death.

Dawson was the calmest and he used that to his advantage, "Why not?"

The detectives' shoulders dropped, relaxing at the calm tone of the detective standing closest to them. It was Rixton who answered, "It's a conflict of interest. This is personal."

"You're damn right it's personal," Voight shouted, jumping to his feet; he wasn't going to take this sitting down –literally, "I raised her! She was practically one of my own! Have you seen her? Did you see what some sick fuck did to her?! We're going to find out who did this! And I swear, you two," he averts his eyes between the two of them, "better stay out of our way!"

Jay was team Hank Voight. He was always team Hank Voight especially when it came to this particular topic. He had energy built up. He had a whole lot of anger lying below the surface and he needed to exert it in some way that wouldn't require him cursing out every person that attempted to approach him or offer comfort. He wanted, no, he needed to work this case.

"Detective Halstead," at least Rixton had the respect to call him by his correct title, "according to the phone records on Ms. Lindsay's cell, we saw that you were the last one to speak to her."

"Mrs. Halstead…" Jay growled.

The heads of both detectives tilted sideways; their facial expressions practically begging for him to elaborate.

"She's my wife. She took my last name." That's all he said. That's all that was needed to be said.

They understood.

"Sorry," Rixton picked up from there, pulling out a notepad from his back pocket to jot down any significant information, "When you spoke to your wife, did she sound scared? What did the two of you talk about?"

Halstead had to take a moment to think; he couldn't recall. He couldn't remember. It was just conversation, nothing significant about it. Hindsight is 20/20 and if he knew that it would probably be the last conversation he would have had with her then he would have paid attention and he wouldn't have gotten off the phone whether they got a new case or not. He needs to remember, if not for the detectives, then for his peace of mind.

"She didn't sound scared," Jay whispered; he felt somewhat positive about that sentiment because he felt that if she did sound afraid, he wouldn't have gotten off the phone, "She was more irritated than anything. She was happy too. She was just experiencing a mix of a bunch of emotions but I just chalked it up to pregnancy hormones," he flopped down into one of the chairs, "Uh," he ran both of his hands through his short hair, "she was telling me what she was going to do when she got home and…and she was keeping me updated on her distance from our house," he closed his eyes in an effort to push him towards remembering, "Oh," his eyes shot open, "Oh, and she mentioned that a car in front of her was going to make her miss all the lights," and just as soon as the excitement filled his eyes, failure and hurt replaced it, "I laughed. I laughed when she said that. I just thought it was an elderly person driving or something going below the speed limit but what if it was the person who attacked her?!"

If Jay didn't blame himself before, he blamed himself even more so now. He laughed. He actually laughed. It wasn't hard, it was a little snicker, but he chuckled nonetheless. He shut his eyes in an effort to remember more and he knew that while the two detectives patiently waited for information, the team was listening too. Hank wasn't bluffing when he said they're still investigating the case. It went against orders from those ranked higher than their sergeant; none of them cared about the consequences that may befall them from going forward with this investigation. If they close this case, it'll be worth it.

Jay ran his hands down his face and inhaled a sharp breath. He needed an update on his wife and kid. He needed to remember more of the conversation. He needed to think. His eyes suddenly reopened when he thought a little too hard. He remembers that he rushed her off the phone and it sounded like she wanted to say something; "We got a new case," he exclaimed desperately, "I had to get off the phone because of it! I rushed her off! I hung up," his voice broke and his gaze drifted downwards, "Did I hang up on my wife the second before she was attacked?"

His question went unanswered.

"This attack had to be personal," Detective Upton said it more to her partner than to the other detectives in the room, "Detective Halstead," now she's addressing her next question towards the victim's spouse, "how are things between you and your wife?"

He gets automatically on the defensive.

"What do you mean? Why are you asking me that?" Jay sits up straight, eyes squinting and lips turning into a frown; "Things are fine between us…they're better than fine. She's my wife and we're expecting a baby together."

"Maybe I should elaborate on my question a little," Detective Upton said seconds before clarifying her earlier statement, "how were things between you and your wife before her attack or days leading up to her attack?"

"I don't like what you're suggesting," Burgess immediately got on the defensive.

Ruzek approached his friend, taking a protective stand beside him, "Whatever you're trying to insinuate just come out with it. We're all detectives here; we know what you're doing."

"Did you have anything to do with your wife's attack?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Jay hopped to his feet, causing the team to immediately move in to separate Halstead from the detectives, "I love my wife with every fiber of my being! I wouldn't do something like that! Why would I? What would I gain? To even entertain the thought of being responsible for what happened to my wife is killing me right now!"

"We're just trying to cover all of the bases," Detective Upton defended her question.

"Well," Kim growled, "you're wasting time barking up the wrong tree."

"Do you know if your wife had any enemies?"

If the detectives thought Jay was going to answer any more of their questions after that, they had another thing coming. He couldn't think. He simply shrugged in response to their question without giving it any true thought. If he did think of someone, he would share it with Voight.

"Alright," Rixton reached into the pocket of his jacket, "if you think of anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call, even if you think it's small, call." Jay took the card in an effort to entertain the thought, but once the detectives walked away, he balled it up and shoved it into his pocket until he could find a trashcan to properly dispose of it later.

 **5:35pm.**

Will left in search of an update. Jay was going crazy and he feared his brother may pace a hole into the floor. He needed to know something, anything, he just needed to know.

Since the detectives left, he hadn't been able to sit down. Hank stepped out to make a few phone calls and he sent Mouse back to the precinct to start working on their unassigned case. Jay increased his pace, arms crossed over his torso as he muttered under his breath and on repeat, "She shouldn't have been sent home."

Voight hadn't heard the first few times, but by the fifth, he picked up on it, "What was that?"

Jay came to a sudden stop. Everyone in the waiting room halted, hoping that Jay chose to pick his battles and this one he would choose not to fight. None of them were that lucky.

"I said she shouldn't have been sent home," Jay turned to face his boss, "You shouldn't have sent her home. We should have been more patient with her. She's pregnant; so what if we had to walk on eggshells around her?! That's the least we could do! We should have let her stay! I should have forced her…allowed her to stay with me!" His voice was so high in volume that it cracked, "But…but we didn't! We couldn't handle a few angry outbursts and a couple mean glares! Did you see her face?! Someone did that! Someone beat her up and didn't take any pity on her! She's a pregnant woman who couldn't defend herself!" His voice cracked again, "Whoever did this is a coward! When he's caught, put me in the cage with him for a few minutes! I swear…he'll regret the day that he touched my wife!"

On any other occasion, he would have been pissed; he would have probably put Jay on desk duty, but he granted the man a break. He was letting off a lot of built up tension and frustration. Al rose to his feet; he was also growing stir crazy and he needed to do something. There was no telling when the surgery would be over; there was no sign of an update coming any time soon. Al needed to channel his nervous energy into an investigation, "Hank, you and Jay stay here. Be with Lindsay when she wakes up. She's going to need it. Trust us to handle this case. This unit protects our own and if someone comes after one of us that means someone came after all of us."

"You can't leave," Voight muttered through gritted teeth, "not," he cleared his throat, "not until there's an update." Al had no intention of leaving until then. No one did, but it didn't mean they couldn't start brainstorming. It went without saying. Voight had to practically threaten Mouse to get him to go to the precinct just to get a head start on the investigation.

 **6:20pm.**

Erin had crashed twice. That was the most recent report from Will, Natalie and Connor. She had flat lined, but they managed to bring her back and now she's stable, -unconscious, but stable. Jay struggled to pay attention as he listened to the list of injuries his wife endured.

Closed skull fracture, he heard. Fractured jaw, he swallowed hard; his throat is dry as he imagined them wiring it shut in an effort to heal the fracture. Two cracked ribs, he inhaled a sharp breath. Ruptured spleen, he felt someone force him into an uncomfortable hospital chair. Concussion, he leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. He was forced to listen to the rest even though he didn't think he could handle it. A black eye, a busted lip, bruises and lacerations from the hits and from having her face dragged across the pavement. Stitches were applied to the side of her head, to her eyebrow and her jaw. Subdural hematoma and swelling of the brain were the last injuries listed and he found himself relieved to hear that.

He wouldn't have been able to handle hearing more.

Jay blinked away the tears in his eyes and stood. His brother remained close by to catch him if he grew too weak from the weighted conversation.

Voight remained levelheaded and calm enough to ask questions. He wanted to know more, he needed to know more. They couldn't just come out and list off a wide-range of injuries and not tell them the next step. Dr. Rhodes had to perform some type of burr-hole trephination to suction the excess blood out from the brain bleed. He wants to know when he can see his wife but the words fail to formulate; he wants to know if she's awake, if she's scared and wondering where he is. He knows she can't talk; her jaw would prevent that, but he needs to know if she knows he's here, if she knows he hasn't left the hospital, if she knows he's worried sick.

Hank must have read his mind because he asks the million dollar question and the response from Dr. Rhodes was unexpected. He said something about, medically inducing her into a coma because of swelling in the brain. Everything became sort of a blur; he could hear but it felt like he couldn't see. He's staring straight ahead, eyes not focused on anything in particular, but his ears zero in on the conversation around him. Dr. Rhodes is explaining why he made the medical decision to induce her into a coma. He said something along the lines of allowing the brain to rest which raises the possibility of a decrease in swelling. When swelling is relieved, pressure on the brain reduces which will prevent future brain damage. Shutting down function of the brain gives the brain time to heal without the body executing radical triage by shutting off blood flow to the injured areas of her body.

A medically induced coma is reversible. Jay has to remind himself of that. She didn't slip into a coma and may possibly never wake up; no, that's not what happened. The doctors are in control here and they took this route for a reason. She's on a lot of medication right now. Jay can't even imagine what she's taking. He knows she should be taking more but because of the baby, she can't. She won't be induced for longer than two weeks because then it'll do more harm than good. He couldn't wait two weeks. He needed her now; she needed him.

Jay needed to see his wife and someone had either sensed that or he managed to say it out loud because before he knew it, he was being led down the hallway towards the ICU. The team was following close behind. He didn't have it in him to turn them away. He steps inside. The room feels smaller than its actual size because there are so many machines hooked up to her, keeping her alive, keeping their baby alive. She has bruises all up and down her legs. He's pretty sure they cover her torso too, but he feels he's too much of a coward to check. She has tubes and wires inserted into her mouth, her nose and the back of her hands. He notes the monitor hooked up to her that tracks her and the baby's heartbeat.

"How's my baby?" Jay finds his voice. He's staring at the machine when he sees Natalie approach it.

"The baby is in distress," Natalie didn't want to be the bearer of more bad news, but it was one of the downsides to her job. Her heart went out to him. She had a kid of her own. She couldn't imagine what he's going through right now.

Halstead senses there's more and because there is she asks everyone to step out of the room. No one argues, but Will stays behind when his brother's eyes meet his own in silent pleading.

"Safe pre-term labor is at least 35 weeks. Full term labor is 40 weeks. Women typically deliver around the 37th week," Natalie's filling his head with information he finds useless right now, "Erin is only 32 weeks right now and that in combination with the extensive trauma she received has us worried about the baby." Natalie doesn't take her eyes off the monitor. She forces herself to stare at the screen as she continues to deliver upsetting news, "Erin lost a lot of blood and the baby has been in distress since the attack. If the baby continues to remain in distress then we'll be forced to deliver, but with all surgeries, there is a risk and as her husband, you'll be the one to make that decision," she's still staring at the monitors, willing it to change and show her some good numbers. It doesn't. She's not that powerful.

Jay turns around to face her, "I don't understand." He manages to find his voice again. He has to stay strong; he has to for Erin and for his baby.

"We can wait it out and keep an eye on the baby's heart rate, but there is a chance the baby may go into v-fib. If that happens then by the time we deliver it may be too late. The baby can die, but mom should be okay," Natalie sucked in a hard breath before releasing it, "or we can take your wife into the delivery room and perform a C-section. She's lost a lot of blood already and we gave her a transfusion. She also just underwent major surgery so her body is weak. Mom could die, but baby's chance at survival is higher than if we wait it out."

"Those are my options," his words come out in question form, forcing Natalie to sympathetically nod her head; he shakes his in return, "I can't. I can't make that decision," tears prick his eyes; he can't breathe, "Erin," he looks to his wife, he knows she won't wake up but that doesn't stop him from trying, "I need to talk to her! Wake her up, please, I can't make this decision!"

 **6:55pm.**

Jay had stormed outside the moment he realized that they wouldn't wake Erin up for her to make the decision. He didn't want that power; it was her body, it should be her choice. He shouldn't make it for her; it wasn't right. Halstead inhales a breath of fresh air before releasing it in sputtered exhales. He couldn't do this. Why was this happening to him? To them?

It felt like every fiber of his being was being torn apart. It felt like someone reached into his chest, pulled out his heart and crushed it in their bare hands. Jay couldn't see a life without them.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now."

Jay took a seat on the curb and Voight joined him. Both men sat side by side, shoulders touching as they stared forward, listening to the sounds of rush hour traffic.

"Have you heard from the detectives?" It was obvious he didn't want to talk about this right now.

Hank picked up on it and he happily obliged with the subject change, "No, but the team left a few minutes ago to start the investigation. They assume we're going to stay at the hospital, but we can't," Jay nods in full agreement, "we're going to conduct our own investigation."

Halstead cleared his throat, "We need," his voice sounded so weak; it didn't even sound like it belonged to him, "we need to get an officer to guard her room…just in case."

"It's already done," Hank pat his knee before rising to his feet, "I've called for two."

 **7:15pm.**

It seems everyone was thinking the same thing because they all ended up back at the crime scene. Al should have known they wouldn't be staying at the hospital. He should have known they wouldn't be able to not involve themselves.

Forensics had already photographed the multiple crime scenes; they already collected evidence. It was an officer that was hurt, a pregnant one at that. This case became top priority. The forensics team left nothing at the crime scene, which is good, but it gave them nothing to go on.

"Erin was dumped here," Atwater stated, pointing towards the blood pool soaking into the dirt, grass and leaves. Someone dumped her there like an animal. "But, where was she dumped from?" Atwater points up the hill and the team starts to climb.

The climb up strained their calves. Some of them regretted it because it was so steep; they figured they should have just taken the trail and walked around the long way, but this saved time and they could handle a few burning limbs if it meant getting closer to Lindsay's attacker. As Jay climbed up, all he could envision was Erin rolling down, being cut with branches and sticks, her body soaking up the mud, hitting the trees before landing with a hard impact. He was torturing himself. He should have been with her.

"The original crime scene," Jay whispered, staring at Lindsay's car, "does forensics know about this?" Everyone shrugged. It wasn't forensics job to investigate and ask questions; it was their job to provide scientific evidence to back up their accusations.

"She was dragged," Dawson whispered, pointing towards the trail of blood spatter leading from her car and towards the top of the hill, "No phone around." Well that answered their question about forensics; they did find the original crime scene and they must have taken her phone in for evidence. It was how the detectives knew Jay was the last person she spoke to.

"No skid marks," Voight notes aloud, "No broken glass. Her keys are still in the ignition. No signs of forced entry into her vehicle," he approaches it closely and scans it, "slashed tire," he sighs and corrects his last statement, "slashed tires. Someone was targeting her. This was planned. This was an ambush."

"The car is still here and her purse and phone are in evidence. This wasn't a robbery or a carjacking," Adam added, glancing over his shoulder to take in Jay's appearance. The guy was physically here but mentally he was someplace else, probably at the hospital, "Jay," he snaps out of his reverie when Ruzek calls his name, "does Erin have any enemies that you know of?"

"…other than the criminals we put away," he whispered, staring down at the amount of blood on the pavement. He couldn't look away. He couldn't even blink. It's his wife's blood.

If it was possible for Jay's heart to break even more, it's done it. He must be setting the world record for the amount of heart breaks a person can have in such a short amount of time. His wife was ambushed, she was beat, she was dragged and she was dropped off a hill to land at the bottom of the forest. Someone disposed of her like she was trash.

"Burgess, call Mouse," Voight ordered, "see if he can pull up Erin's call logs. I want to see if she's been talking to anyone recently. This attack was personal; she knows who hurt her."

 **7:39pm.**

Halstead had just gotten off the phone with his brother. He hadn't been gone long but he wanted to know if there were any changes. Will didn't complain. He expects it. And he knows his brother will be calling regularly every few minutes until he can find some peace in his heart. It didn't help that he was being pushed and pressured into making a decision. The team of doctors needed to know what to do.

The team was back in the unit and after he hung up the phone, he joined them at Mouse's desk. A call log was up and majority of the calls made to and from her cell were from him or someone from the team, but there was one number that stood out. It was a number that popped up multiple times on her call log and according to the minutes beside the number, she'd spoken to the person for at least three to five minutes each time.

"Was there any update on Lindsay?" Voight knew the answer to that question but he still couldn't help but to ask. It's been less than an hour since their last update, of course, there was no news. Jay only answered with the pout of his lips and the down turn of his head.

"Does this number look familiar to you, Jay?" Dawson switches the conversation back and Jay appreciates it. He would rather lose himself in solving this case than worrying over something he has no control over. He needs to make a decision. He can't.

Instead, he reads the number aloud to himself once and then twice before shrugging, "I'm sorry," he feels useless, "I don't know whose number that is."

Kim rubs his back, "That's okay, Jay." She was just trying to reassure him. It didn't work.

"No, it's not okay Kim! I need to help her, we all do, but it's out of our control," he knocks her hand off of him but she doesn't take it personal. He's going through a lot right now.

Jay didn't know any of this was happening. His wife was having brief conversations with a number, lasting no more than five minutes. The number always called her. It was always incoming. She never called it. This number called her an excessive amount of times. More than 30 times a day…and Jay never knew. Mouse loads up one of the softwares granted towards law enforcement and he carefully types the number in to make sure he didn't get any digit wrong. It immediately loads up. Thankfully it's registered and it doesn't belong to a burner phone.

 _Annie Pugliese_

Mouse glances at deleted voicemails; it wasn't offered to him through the app, but he still had a few skills from back then during his hacker days. He loaded them up. It was from Annie to Erin; they met for lunch a few days ago, this week. And that's all it takes for Jay to see black, grab a set of keys and head off in the direction of the garage. Hank shouts orders towards Atwater and Ruzek, choosing to send them to the restaurant Erin and Annie went to for lunch as he jogs off to catch up to a fuming Jay.

 **8:00pm.**

Jay had pounded on the door, demanding to be let in. His fist was tight and with each knock, the fragile, wooden door shook on its hinges. He didn't have a warrant, but he wasn't against storming in to demand answers. His feet glued to the spot, planted firmly on the concrete ground with determination written across his face. He wasn't leaving, -not until Annie answered. He raised the side of his feet, beating it against the door so hard that his hand was starting to turn red. He didn't care. He needed answers.

Doors from the other units started to open up with her neighbors sticking their heads out into the hallway to see who was causing all the ruckus. Voight flashed his badge and many of them went scampering back into their apartments probably because they either had warrants out for their arrest, were high or were probably committing some type of offense and none of them wanted trouble from the police.

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" Voight's gruff voice filled the hall.

"I'm positive," Jay asserted, hand continually beating against the door, "it's the address Mouse sent us. It's right. He wouldn't send us the wrong one." Voight wasn't saying that; he wasn't hinting towards it. He just thought maybe they had read it wrong or got the apartment number mixed up. Voight approached the door, one hand hovering above his holstered weapon as the other joined Jay's in its quest to either beat the door down or knock so hard that Annie would realize they weren't going away.

Hank had stepped back seconds later to allow his gaze to drift downwards. He saw a shadow beneath the crack under the door. She's standing directly on the other side. Hank tapped Jay's shoulder and pointed downward; he caught the hint, "Let us in Annie. We know you're in there."

A muffled throat clearing was heard on the other side, "What do you want?"

"Open the door and we'll tell you," Jay retorted, raising his fist to prepare to continue knocking.

"I haven't done anything illegal," was her response. She was nervous. Why was she nervous?

"Annie," Voight finally spoke up, moving towards the peephole of the door, knowing she was watching them from the other side, "if you don't open this door we're going to knock it down. It's up to you how this goes, but regardless of your decision, we're coming inside."

Seconds, that felt like hours had passed before they heard the sound of multiple locks unlocking before being followed by the door swinging open. Jay's fist was still midair, prepared to knock again, but Annie had answered, "What's going on?"

Jay pushed the door open wider and walked inside. Voight is closely following on his heel. He is granting Halstead the lead on questioning Annie. She grows automatically on the defense, "Travis," she calls to her teenage son who was lounging on the couch playing video games, "go to your room." The boy grumbled to himself before tossing his game controller onto the coffee table and rising up to casually stroll towards his bedroom. He'll probably be eavesdropping. Annie waits; she waits until she hears the sound of her son's bedroom door closing before she swings around to face them, "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

"You don't even know why we're here!" Jay argued; his emotions were taking over. Voight feared that reason would go out the window for the both of them and neither was in the right state of mind to bring the other back.

On their ride over, Atwater and Ruzek had called them to update them on their brief conversation with the waiter who served Erin and Annie. The waiter didn't think he would remember them, but one glance at the face of a battered Lindsay on the cell phone of Ruzek had jogged up all of his subconscious thoughts. He remembered her; he remembered both of them. They made a scene in the restaurant resulting in Annie shoving the waiter to the side as she stormed away.

"I don't know why you're here, but I don't have to answer to you," they note her defensiveness, "I have been behaving! So what's with the fucking disturbance?! I've done nothing wrong. I just returned to Chicago a few weeks ago, what trouble could I have possibly gotten into already?!"

"Erin…" Jay answered; his voice was low and a bit unsteady. He had flashes of her in the hospital. Her face, all the tubes, the bruising and the fractures kept flashing through his mind on repeat like brief five second clips of a slideshow. He needed to find out who did this.

He needed to work off some anger once he found out.

"What about her?" Annie crossed her arms over her chest; she's growing even more defensive.

"A few days ago, the two of you had lunch," Voight picked up on the questioning because Jay kept getting distracted. Who could blame him though?

"Last time I checked it wasn't illegal to have lunch with an old friend…" she retorted and Hank found himself not liking this girl even more. She's such a smartass. A lightbulb metaphorically went off in her head because she dropped her arms from her chest and grabbed her hips, "I get it now," she smirked, stepping towards the two of them, "I know why you're here."

Hank and Jay highly doubt it.

"Why are we here?" the two of them surprised themselves by asking the question in unison.

Erin's case wasn't on the news. He didn't know who was responsible for granting them privacy during this time but Jay was grateful for that. He knew if the vultures got wind of this brutal attack, they would be swarming the crime scene, the hospital and the district all searching for answers that nobody has.

"You came to threaten me to stay away from her," Annie said smugly.

"Wrong," Jay took an intimidating step forward and out of instinct she took one back, "The two of you went out for lunch a few days ago. The waiter said there was some sort of disagreement and it had gotten pretty loud. What was that about?" He surprised himself with how he managed to remain even-keeled. He needed to get back to the hospital. He needed to call his wife's doctor.

He had to make an impossible decision.

Annie dryly chuckled; that rubbed the both of them the wrong way.

"Friends always have disagreements and argue. We're old friends and the both of you know that already. We were just catching up."

Jay had caught the words old friends. He knew that wasn't true, or at least that's not what Erin led him to believe. He didn't like Annie. He didn't trust her. And when Erin cut all ties with her, both Jay and Hank had found celebration in that. It appears to have been short-lived.

"Erin and her baby are in critical condition," Voight interjected before Jay had a chance to proceed, "they're both fighting for their lives."

"And you think I was responsible?" She immediately goes back on the defensive. She doesn't ask about the status of his wife and child. It seems her priority is protecting herself. She doesn't even bat an eye; she's not surprised. Jay mentally notes that as she continues, "You think I would actually hurt Erin? Seriously, Jay? She was the only person who was there for me! Why would I hurt her? What reason would I have to do that to her?" Annie's working herself up, Jay notes. She's starting to cry but the tears don't appear genuine.

"Jealousy," Jay listed the motive.

And she chuckled at that; she emitted a loud, dry and drawn out laugh, "You don't know what you're talking about, Jay. I'm not jealous of her? Why would I be?"

"…because she's successful," he starts to reason, "because she's married to a man who truly loves her," his gaze falls towards her ring finger where a ring sat only a few months ago, "because she's expecting a baby that was planned," his line of sight flashed towards the door that Travis closed behind him, "because she's employed, she's an admirable detective, she has people who love and care for her, she's respected and she managed to make something of herself despite the circumstances outside of her control. Should I continue?"

"I would never hurt Erin no matter how jealous I may be of her!" Annie exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "You have to believe me! I had nothing to do with that! I wouldn't hurt her and I for sure as hell wouldn't hurt an innocent baby!"

Voight stepped forward, sensing the tone and atmosphere in the room growing at an exponential rate. This was all going to escalate if he didn't take control, if he didn't get involved. Surprisingly, he remained the calm one out of the two. Someone had to remain levelheaded and that someone that stepped up to be that person was Voight, "Last time I checked with Erin, the two of you weren't on speaking terms."

When Charlie was released from prison, he and Annie rekindled their interest in one another and it led to a shotgun wedding which only led to a falling out between Annie and Erin. They hadn't spoken since the wedding which was two years ago.

"After my separation from Charlie, I decided to reach out."

Jay rolled his eyes at that, "You've been calling her excessively."

"She wasn't picking up," Annie defended her actions.

"You could have left a voicemail," Hank offered the alternative.

"When she did start answering, you continued to call," Jay pointed out, thinking back to the call logs Mouse had brought up online, "Why is that?"

"I wanted us to meet for lunch but it took some convincing."

Jay sighed and shook his head, "So, what you're telling me is that you called and harassed her over and over again until she agreed to meet with you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes or no, Annie?" Hank retorted, struggling to keep the building rage within him.

"Yes," she pouted.

"You called her over 30 times a day!" Jay shouted, noticing Annie flinch at the tone of his voice.

"I really wanted to apologize in person! She was right! She deserved to hear that!"

Annie has no alibi. She has nothing left to say. She hints towards that by walking over to the door, opening it and nodding for them to leave her home. Voight walks out first. Jay hesitates at the doorway, "Don't leave town."

"Don't come back to my home," Annie growled, gripping the doorknob tighter, "and if you have any more questions, contact my lawyer," she slammed the door behind him.

Hank and Jay stood in the hallway, staring at one another. Both of them sighed before Voight muttered, "I doubt she can even afford a decent lawyer."

Jay wanted to laugh but there was no joy, no enjoyment, no pleasure and no amusement inside of him. He felt empty. He felt blank. It was hard for him to feel anything with his wife and kid on the brink of death. His cell phone rang just as Voight went to phone Dawson, "How is she?" it's his brother on the phone and he skips all greetings and gets straight to the point.

"She's stable. She's still in a medically induced coma. We'll know the extent of her injuries and if there's any lasting head trauma when she wakes up."

"And what about the baby?" Jay asks just as Hank hangs up and walks over.

"He's fine," the gender slipped from Will's mouth; Jay's heart pounded at the realization.

"…he?"

"Jay, I'm so sorry!" Will exclaimed; the guilt that he felt from the slip up was immense. He knew that his brother and Erin wanted to be surprised; they wanted to find out together and he unintentionally took that away from them.

 **8:39pm.**

Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Manning need an answer within the hour. He's only delaying the inevitable but he can't decide. He cannot make the decision alone. It was too much power for one man to wield; to feel like you're choosing between two lives is the work of a higher power not a mere man. He didn't want that type of responsibility, that type of guilt that would come from choosing. He knows his wife but he still wanted her to wake up, to help him.

That thought made him feel selfish.

He wants her to wake up to take the burden of making a decision off of him. What kind of a husband is he? What kind of a father is he? He wants to choose his wife, but he felt that only reflected on him being a bad parent before the kid was even born. He wanted his wife; he needed her. He couldn't go on without her. But, he knew if he chose her and the baby died, she would never forgive him. That, he knew for a fact.

Jay stood at her bedside after deciding to have Voight drop him off on the way back to the district. He needed to be with her, just in case. He's holding her hand, being extra cautious so he doesn't disturb the wires and tubes keeping her alive. He starts to break down again, feeling this overwhelming ball of tension build up in his chest before suddenly releasing a waterfall of emotions. He leaned forward, eyeing the bandages and bruises and he carefully, with as much caution as possible, he caressed her cheek. He needed the contact.

He kissed her lips. He needed the intimacy.

"Babe," he whispered; his lips resting against her own, "I _need_ you to wake up," he begged; he wasn't above dropping to his knees and bargaining his pride and dignity if it meant he could look into her hazel eyes again, "I really need you to be okay. I need," he mentally kicks himself; here he goes being selfish again talking about what he needs, "You need me to love you for eternity and I will. You need me to catch the person or people responsible for this and I promise. You need me to put my feelings aside and make a logical decision in regards to you and our baby and I…" his voice breaks on that last word; he sucks in a large breath and attempts to try again, "I'm not sure I can do that. I'm trying to think rationally here, Er, but it's so damn hard to do that when you're hurt, when you can possibly die. I can't think clearly when I'm actually watching my heart deteriorate in front of my eyes! I need you. The baby needs you. Our _son_ ," his voice cracks on the last word, "needs you."

Jay silently flopped down into the plastic chair near her bedside; his shoulders hunched over and a vibration so powerful that it scared him had reverberated through his body. He felt his throat tighten. He felt his eyes gaze away, focusing on the tiled floors. He inhaled a short intake of breath before sputtering it out, "I can't do this without you."

He was afraid to clarify what he meant by using the word it. He couldn't voice it. What couldn't he do without her: be a parent to their son, be a detective assigned a new partner or to actually breathe, live and function in this world? What couldn't he voice to her? He was too scared to reflect on that to know for sure.

Halstead reached for her hand, drawing it up to his mouth to pepper kisses all over it, "Er," Jay's voice is choking up; he can barely see her because the tears in his eyes make his vision cloudy, "I should have been with you," his voice cracks, "I…I should have done something. I could have done something!" He knows she wouldn't want him blaming himself, but he couldn't help it.

This isn't how their story is supposed to end.

Jay rises to his feet. He's never been the prayer type of guy but he felt like he was at his lowest point, his rock bottom and that led him out of her room, down the hall and into the hospital chapel. He didn't have much power, but if some of his friends were right then prayer was a way to reach the all-powerful. He grabbed a tea-candle and used one of the already lit candles to light his own. His eyes shut as he sat it down with the many array of other lit candles. Each one represented a person fighting for their lives; each one told a story that Jay found himself curious about. He backed away and sat down on the pew, staring forward at the blaze of candles in the dimly lit room. He shuts his eyes, bows his head and clasps his hands together.

Halstead needs her to wake up. He needs guidance when making this huge decision. He needs answers to who did this and why they did it. He needed so much. He was stuck.

He saw Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Manning enter and he knew they were waiting for a decision. He was torn. He didn't have one. His brother appeared behind them, excusing himself through his two colleagues to approach him without a word. He appreciated that. Will quietly took a seat beside his brother and wrapped his arm around his shoulders to silently tell him that he isn't alone. If it was possible, Jay loved his brother more than he did in all his life.

"Do you need more time?" Will had whispered it into his ear, while slyly waving Connor and Natalie away. Jay gave a silent nod in an effort to answer, "Okay then, they'll give you more."

Jay was royally screwed when it came to making a well-informed decision. He knew if he chose Erin, she'll never forgive him and if he chooses the baby, he'll never forgive himself.

 **9:25pm.**

Hank sits in his black truck; he couldn't bring himself to leave after dropping Jay off. He sits out front, to the side of the emergency drop off. His phone is connected to the speakers in his car and Olinsky has been taking charge of the team, directing who needs to go where and do what in an effort to give his boss a little break. Voight hadn't had a moment to himself, a moment to process what happened, a moment to reflect and a moment to let those emotions come forward.

He's burying them, -on purpose. He has every intention of releasing them when the bastard who did this is caught.

"What do you think about Annie?" Al had asked and based on the tone of his voice, it's clear to Hank that this isn't the first time he asked that question.

"Uh," Voight turned off the ignition in his car and leaned back in his driver's seat, "She has motive. She had the advantage, the opportunity and the upper hand. She doesn't have an alibi."

"Do you honestly think Annie could do something like that? Physically, I mean." Al clarified.

"You'd be surprised what people are capable of doing when fueled by jealousy and rage."

A silence befalls them. Al knows Hank isn't on his way back to the district despite what he said when dropping Jay off. He has known Hank long enough to read between the lines, to know that he's probably sitting somewhere by himself as his thoughts take over. Olinsky wanted to comfort his friend, but he knows the only comfort that Voight needs is for Erin to be okay and he had absolutely no control over that. The second type of comfort, Al could help with; he could help find the person responsible. He has to find the person before the detectives who were placed on the case found them. If he did, he could grant Jay and Hank a reprieve, a type of healing that most family members want but are unable to get when a loved one is violently victimized.

"We're not ruling her out," Voight stated, leaving no room for question, "I know I can't take charge on this, but at this point, any and everyone who had so much as a disagreement with her or didn't like her is a suspect in my eyes. Annie had the motive and the opportunity; she's our only suspect for now so we're going to keep a tight leash on her. She's bound to mess up."

Al had covered the bottom of the mouthpiece to make an announcement. He sent Dawson and Burgess to Annie's house, telling them to trail her if she decides to leave and especially warning them to keep their distance to make sure she didn't grow suspicious of their stakeout. Al had directed Mouse to look into any criminals connected to Lindsay that have been recently released from prison. He's looking into any and all individuals who may have had a grudge against her.

"She's not allowed to leave Chicago…" Voight whispered, gaze unfocused and staring forward.

"I don't think she will," Olinsky adds reason; "She doesn't have the means or the money to just up and go. Her life is here. Her home is here. Her kid is here." It made sense.

"All of those phone calls from Annie," Hank started, voice gruffer than it usually is, "she said it was because she wanted to meet Erin for lunch to apologize to her in person."

Olinsky had questions pertaining to that and fortunately enough; Hank had guessed them and proceeded to answer every question before Al even had the chance to ask. Voight wanted to go back into the hospital, but he also wanted to give Jay some time alone with his wife. He knows how important those moments are, when your wife, the love of your life is fighting for their life, every single second and minute was cherished. Hank was granting Jay those moments.

"How are she and the baby doing?" Olinsky found himself asking the second they were done updating each other on the information they've discovered. The last piece of input was provided by Al when he informed Hank that everyone's reaching out to their CI's to see if there's been any whispered, underground talk about the attack. No one just plans to hurt a detective, a woman of law enforcement and Hank Voight's foster daughter without anyone knowing. Someone had to know something, any little detail will help and the added bonus of informing the CI's that it'll make Hank Voight happy provided further incentive. Everyone should want a Hank Voight on their side when things got tough and the informants all know that; it's why they didn't request a monetary reward; Hank Voight's loyalty was payment enough.

"Last update I got said they were stable," Hank said, lacking conviction in his utterance, "but…uh, it was almost an hour ago so anything could have changed."

 **9:52pm.**

Jay wasn't a doctor; he knew very little about medical procedures, jargon and treatment, but for some reason, that didn't stop him from examining his wife with his own eyes. He looked at each bruise, he lifted the bandage and took a peek at every cut, he ran his gaze over the metal that wired her jaw shut and his gaze eventually landed on the streaks of blood that dyed patches of her hair. And the sad part about it, the part that breaks his heart when it goes through his mind is every injury he took in was visible to the naked eye; he couldn't imagine the injuries that lay beneath the skin and bone, the injuries that only an x-ray or an CT scan can show.

"She's strong," Mouse asserted, stepping into the hospital room. Jay took a quick step back as if he was doing something wrong and had been caught.

"I know she is," he whispered, gaze falling down to the floor, "but I don't think I am."

Mouse had grabbed another plastic chair and dragged it over to Erin's bed. On his shoulder hung a laptop bag and after he positioned the chair, he sat the bag down onto the floor and leaned it against the leg of the chair. Jay was confused, especially when Mouse squeezed Erin's hand and then sat down and pulled the laptop out of the bag and onto his lap.

"What are you doing here?"

He should have expected that question, but he didn't, at least that much was obvious by the surprised look on Mouse's face, "Uh, I heard the boss talking to Olinsky and I know you Jay, I know you're torturing yourself right now and you feel alone and I came to make sure you weren't. I came to sit by Erin's side if you needed to go back out into the field," Jay appreciated that last part because the guilt of leaving her alone for too long was immeasurable, "I came because I'm able to work from anywhere. I brought a work-issued laptop with me so I can do all I need to do from this spot right now. There's a vending machine down the hall and there's a restroom down the other end; everything I need is right here."

Halstead appreciated that more than he could say; there weren't enough words in the English language that would adequately tell his friend, his brother in arms, that he loved and appreciated him. Words wouldn't do it, but actions seemed to step up and try. Jay pulled his friend into a hug, his strong muscles wrapped around Mouse's shorter frame, only for a suppressed cry to be released the second his friend rubbed his back and reassured him that Erin was going to be okay and because their baby has DNA from the both of them, he was going to be perfectly okay too.

Jay only needed to believe it.

Mouse heard his laptop ping and he withdrew himself from the hug. Jay quickly wiped his eyes and stared down at the laptop bag, "I was running a program to search cases that Erin spearheaded to see if there were any convictions or recent releases," Mouse took a seat and pulled the laptop out, "I'm running Erin's name through the database and I was hoping something would get flagged or another name would pop up to at least give me someone else to run besides her," the laptop continued to ping after searching for the identified words he typed into the search engine as it scanned through Erin's record, "Call Voight and Olinsky."

"Did you find something?" Jay asked while simultaneously pulling out his cell phone. He dialed Hank first and then Al right after before placing the three-way phone call on speaker, "Mouse said he found something! He wanted me to call y'all."

"What is it?" Al asked, placing his own phone on speaker so the rest of the team could hear.

"Charlie Pugliese," Mouse asserted, pupils averting side to side as he quickly read the document.

"He's legally separated from Annie. When they were younger, he used to run the block, manipulated Erin and he blackmailed her at one point," Jay summarized him for the members of the team that didn't know all the details, "he went back to prison a few years ago for a sting operation he wanted Erin to cover up for him. She didn't." As Jay spoke aloud, the motive became clearer and clearer, -revenge.

"Send us his address or where we can find him, whether work or his kid's school, send us places and we'll divide up to find him and bring him back here for questioning," Al ordered. Mouse nodded to indicate he heard him even though he wasn't seen by Olinsky.

Jay remained quiet. He would have been the first person to volunteer to go out in search of Charlie, but his friend's silence kept him quiet. There was something else.

"What else is it, Mouse?"

He swallowed at the waver in Jay's voice before answering, "Lindsay has a restraining order out against him." And by the silence on the phone and the look in Jay's eyes, it's obvious that no one knew this major detail in Erin's life.

 **10:35pm.**

It did not take long at all for Charlie Pugliese to be found. He was located at his old hangout spot, -it seems he hasn't learned a lesson from his multiple incarcerations. It was Dawson and Burgess who picked him up and brought him in when they realized they were close to one of the many addresses that Mouse had sent. It seems he doesn't have a permanent residence. He's a floater, a drifter of some sort that goes couch to couch and abandoned warehouse to abandoned warehouse, but with the combined efforts of Mouse's hacking abilities and a few CI's who noticed him near the Silos, they had eventually found him.

Olinsky wouldn't let Hank or Jay in the room. Mouse stayed with Erin, promising to send Jay text updates every half an hour or more if things started to change.

"Why am I here?" Charlie asked, propping his feet up onto the interrogation room table; his legs were crossed at the ankles. He seemed so smug. Jay watched from the other side of the mirror, fighting against every urge to shatter it, hop through and knock that smirk right off his face.

"I'm pretty sure you know exactly why you're here," Dawson retorted, knocking Charlie's legs off the table before slamming a manila folder down directly in front of him, "Erin Lindsay."

"What about her?"

"Why does she have a restraining order against you?"

Charlie actually laughed at the reminder, "…because she's a bitch and a coward who's too afraid to fight her own battles and needed the court to get involved to do so."

"Why does she have a restraining order against you?" Dawson repeated his earlier question. He can only imagine the rage that is probably simmering at the pit of Voight and Halstead's stomach as they force themselves to remain on the other side of the glass. They wanted to save that anger for the person responsible; they needed cold, hard facts to prove and release it.

"I paid her a couple of visits," Charlie shrugged it off as if it was no big. He was being difficult on purpose. He wasn't going to make this easy.

"What were the visits about?"

Charlie shrugged again, "I don't remember. Why don't you go ask Erin?"

Jay felt his heart racing. He felt himself walk towards the door, prepared to leave out the room and storm into the interrogation room. Olinsky and Dawson weren't getting answers by playing nice; he needed to be roughed up a bit and shown that Erin Lindsay was off limits. Unfortunately, before he could do that Atwater stepped in his way; it was obvious that Hank wasn't going to stop him. If anything, he may have joined in. Atwater sent them back to the mirror as if he was in charge; he was right though and after a few shared sentences, Jay realized that and dragged his feet back to the mirror.

"Where were you today around 3'olock?" Olinsky asked, watching Charlie's brow rise. He dropped that last source of questioning; he'll get Mouse to look into it.

"…minding my business," he was making things difficult on purpose.

"Do you have an alibi?" Dawson followed-up his question with a clarification, "an alibi that can be verified."

"I have three actually."

A yellow legal pad was slammed down in front of him, followed by a pen being tossed his way.

Olinsky nodded towards the pad of paper, "Get to writing. We want names, numbers and all addresses they can be found."

As Charlie started writing an eerie silence fell over the room. It was too quiet so Dawson started to anxiously tap his foot as Olinsky began to pace circles around the interrogation room. Soon enough, it was Al who vocalized his thoughts, "What happened to you?" Charlie briefly looked up from writing to meet Olinsky's gaze, "I thought after you served your time you were going to get your head on right. Now you're back out in the streets, hustling, dealing drugs probably and who knows what else? What happened to you?"

Charlie directed his glare towards the two-way mirror, knowing that Voight and Halstead were most likely watching since this case revolved around Erin. He clicked the pen and slammed it down onto the legal pad, "I lost my job thanks to Erin. I lost my source of income. I lost my wife because of Erin, I got her and thanks to Erin, I lost her again! I lost everything because of her!"

From the two-way mirror, Jay notes his words, filing them all in a compartment in his brain that's unofficially designated to this case.

"That sounds like a motive," Dawson asserted, nodding towards the pad, "Are you done?"

"Are we done?" Charlie restated Dawson's question towards him, "Am I being charged with something or can I leave?" He's continually being difficult on purpose.

"Don't leave town," Olinsky didn't exactly answer the question but he gave a warning, -one that implied an underlying threat if he went against it.

Charlie rose to his feet and stretched his arms, glancing at the mirror one last time before approaching it. He's been in trouble and he's watched enough television to know that they're watching him through it, "Good luck trying to prove your case," unbeknownst to him, he's directly facing Jay, "You have no evidence; no proof. I have three strong alibis that are airtight and the only person who could ever pin me to this crime, -whether I did it or not- is Erin and she's currently out of commission at the moment so good luck with that and I'll be leaving," he winked at the detectives through the glass, "and please, give Erin my best of wishes."

Atwater and Ruzek had physically placed their bodies in front of the door to prevent Jay and Hank from leaving while Charlie was still there. They overlooked the threats from Voight about losing their job and they ignored the threats from Jay involving physical aggression all for the sole purpose of protecting their boss and friend from themselves. Charlie was working them up, and getting under their skin. And once Atwater and Ruzek were positive that Charlie was long gone, they stepped out of the way to allow them to leave and enter the interrogation room.

Halstead went straight for the legal pad, snatching it out of Dawson's hands in order to take a look at it himself. His eyes read the names, glaring holes into each letter that Charlie wrote down. Charlie was right. They didn't have much evidence. They didn't have many things to go on, but thanks to him, he gave them a lead. Jay turned the pad around to show Voight the three names listed: Annie Pugliese, Landon Moore and Teddy Courtney. Something was definitely up; there's no coincidence that Charlie just so happened to be with Erin's former friend, her former fling and her estranged brother. And there was no coincidence that Annie reported having no alibi, but Charlie listed her as one. None of this was adding up.

 **11:09pm.**

Jay was dropped off outside of the apartment they shared, -he and his wife. It's hard to believe he was supposed to have gotten off work hours ago. It's hard to believe all that can happen within a day. He didn't want to go home. He was forced. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't have a say in the matter. Ruzek dropped him off and told Jay not to show his face at least until he got a few hours of sleep. He wanted to go to the hospital, maybe sleep in a cot they could bring to the room or if there were no cots available, he could always sleep sitting in the chair or lying on the tiled floor. He didn't really care; he just wanted to be with her.

The team knew if he went to the hospital to sleep, he wouldn't be sleeping at all.

Visiting hours ended for ICU patients at eleven; it was extended because most of the hospital staff knows Erin and no one could bring themselves to kick out any person that visited her. The only people who remain are the officers standing watch outside of her door. Jay left them with a warning, no one is to enter her room alone, -no doctors, nurses, or whoever the case may be. They should always be accompanied by one of the two officers and if Jay found out they had slipped on the job, he wouldn't be the only one bringing hell upon them.

Voight didn't even have to utter a threat. One look his way let the officers know he backed up Jay completely. Erin is the one person neither of them played around about, especially when it comes to her safety.

Jay takes the elevator up and drags his feet down the hallway. He notices a wide array of flowers, get well cards, teddy bears and notes littering around their doorway. The story must have made the news; that's the only way anyone would know about it. He doesn't bother looking closely at any of the gifts because they weren't for him, they were for Erin and they would remain there until she was good enough to come home and appreciate them herself. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to start dragging his feet inside.

His body begged and pleaded for him to take a hot shower and he listened. It cried out for him to eat something and he nibbled on a banana enough to push the growl away. It screamed at him to find a comfortable enough surface to sleep but that appeal, he ignored. He couldn't sleep. Not with his wife lying in Chicago Med alone; he couldn't sleep with the chance of his kid dying any day now. He couldn't shut his eyes because all he saw was an image of Erin to the right and his kid to the left and everyone forcing him to choose between the two as if he was choosing between meal options for dinner.

Jay had found himself venturing into the nursery. It's surrounded in neutral colors of gray and yellow, -the baby's a boy. And now was his opportunity to reflect on that. He looked around the room, trailing his fingers along the edge of the crib as he stepped towards the closet, opening it up to find unisex onesies and a row of stacked boxes filled with diapers. The baby was too early. The baby may not make it. This room may be useless. If his kid didn't survive, Jay couldn't see himself ever walking into this room, let alone this apartment again. He would have to move…maybe get his friends to pack up the place and ship the boxes to wherever he and Erin see fit. She wouldn't want to return either. She probably wouldn't even want him; he would be a constant reminder of the kid she lost, a constant reminder of the decision he made.

Halstead couldn't decide. No one with an ounce of compassion would force him to make that decision. No one with a hint of empathy would judge him for his internal battle. Jay saw the rocking chair, gifted to them by Hank; it was used by Camille when she had Justin. He grabbed the stuffed animal, a panda, from inside the crib and continued to drag his feet over towards the wooden piece of future. Carefully, he sat down, straining his face when he heard it creak. It's old, but its vintage and an antique and Erin loved it so much that even though it went against the style and décor of the room, she had to have it. It faced the window. He was in the direct view of the glowing moon. Jay began to rock, forwards and backwards, clenching the stuffed panda to his chest as if it could absorb all the hurt, the pain, the anger and confusion from his body.


	2. It Continued On a Wednesday

**Wednesday, 2:30am.**

Since he fell asleep in an uncomfortable rocking chair, it was no surprise that it caused him to toss and turn during the few hours where he managed to actually fall asleep. It was even less of a shocker when he was easily startled awake by the sound of thunder that rolled overhead; he jumped out of the rocking chair and the stuffed panda that he accidentally squeezed so tight in his sleep that it caused a tear in its ear had fallen to the ground and rolled under the chair. He was on edge and wound up but could anybody really blame him.

The lives of his wife and kid hung in the balance. Or, maybe it was a nightmare.

Jay walked over to the crib and glanced inside, -no baby, he mentally noted. He rubbed his temples and dragged his feet out of the room. An empty crib didn't mean anything. It didn't mean that yesterday actually happened. For all he knows, Erin could be nursing him –or her, depending on if his nightmare had predicted the gender of his kid. He leaned his hand against the wall and poked his head out of the nursery, "Er," he calls out. It's too dark to see anything. The only semblance of light comes every few seconds when lightning strikes the sky.

 _Where is she? Where are they?_ Yesterday had to have just been a dark figment of his imagination. Jay explored his home, looking in the master bedroom, the kitchen, the living room that's combined with the dining room, the bathroom, the closet and he even looked in the nursery again just to make sure he didn't overlook her in his foggy mind that had just been woken up. He didn't see or hear her. He didn't see or hear the baby either. Maybe she went to the store?

Halstead raced over to the hook near the door and when he didn't see her keys, he felt a smile grace his face. She had gone to the store. It's after two in the morning though. What stores are even open? Maybe the baby was fussy and inconsolable and she took him for a drive around the neighborhood to calm him down? That's plausible. Parents do that sometimes. Jay will wait up for them; he needed to set his eyes on her and the baby to know for sure that the events he thought had happened yesterday were just a part of some twisted nightmare that too many horror movies and late night shifts at the district had sparked.

Jay grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge before dragging his feet over to the couch; he was tired and while he knew the comfy couch will tempt him to fall asleep, he knew the beer in his hand will assist him in fighting it. He couldn't go to sleep, at least, not until he knew for sure that they were alive and healthy and that nothing had happened to them. Nothing happened. She's fine and she's alive and okay. This mantra is on repeat in his head as he rocks back and forth like a crazy person in a psych ward. His eyes are glazed over and he's staring straight ahead as he takes sips out of his cold beer bottle every time he hears the thunder boom outside.

 _They have to be okay. They have to be okay. They have to be okay._ The beer bottle falls to the ground the second it's emptied. It bounces on the carpet before rolling under the coffee table. His heart started to thump hard enough and loud enough that it actually feels like he can hear it. It feels like he can actually hear every beat of his heart, -thump, thump, thump, thump- it's continuous and rapid and it's causing his chest to rise and fall. His hands are trembling. His vision is starting to blur. _They have to be okay. They have to be okay. They have to be okay._ He jumped to his feet but the tingling and trembling sensation that was in his hands had traveled down to his legs. He can't breathe. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but his breath came out in uneven spurts. He's starting to hyperventilate.

It feels like he's at the highest peak on a rollercoaster and his stomach is dropping as it descends.

Suddenly he's sweating despite the cool temperature in the apartment. His mouth is dry; it feels like the glands in his mouth were no longer producing saliva. The one thing Jay prides himself on is control and in this moment, he feels like he's losing it. _What is happening to me? Am I going crazy? Am I having a heart attack?_ His brain tries to throw out scenarios to explain what is happening to his body but none of the possibilities seem to stick. A wave of fear fills the base of his stomach and despite the tingling sensation in his legs; he races to the bathroom, flips the toilet lid up and releases the contents of his stomach. He didn't eat much today, only breakfast, so the bile that had risen tasted more acidic than anything else.

It feels like he's unintentionally holding his breath under water.

Immediately after, he flushed the toilet and brushed his teeth. He had to get the taste out. _Where is she? Where are they?_ Jay felt wobbly on his feet the second he rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth. He shut the water off and slowly sunk down to the floor. _A panic attack,_ his brain filled in easily after combing through a mental list of his symptoms: shortness of breath, racing heart, chest pain, trembling, sweating, nausea, light-headedness, tingling sensations, feelings of anxiety and loss of control.

 **3:15am.**

Jay doesn't know how long he sat on the tiled floor in his bathroom. Time seemed to be fleeting; it seemed to be going by and he doesn't even notice. She didn't come home. She wasn't at the store or out for a drive. She's at the hospital, -the baby too. She's in a coma and the baby is fighting to stay alive. She received enough physical damage to her body that the doctor felt it was best to medically induce her into a coma; that Natalie gave him two choices and both may result in the death of one or both of them and that no one could positively reassure him that both his wife and kid would pull through.

Dr. Rhodes had promised him but that was pre-surgery.

Halstead felt like he was jumping out of his own skin. It felt like his flesh was burning. He can't breathe. He's overwhelmed with emotion. His mind starts to race. Jay feels like there's nothing he can do to get enough oxygen in his body to steady his aching lungs and palpitating heart. It truly does feel like he's dying, but he knows he can't. As long as she's alive, he has to fight; he has to stay alive as well. Pain started to shoot down his legs. He used the sink to pull himself up to his feet. He couldn't stay here. He should be with her, next to her, comforting her as she remained comatose. It feels like it came out of the blue but it's a direct result of his growing worry for his wife. He shouldn't be alone. She shouldn't either.

It feels like he can't talk, but there's no harm in that since he's alone. Jay uses the wall and the furniture to guide himself through the apartment, changing his shoes, grabbing his dying phone and calling himself an Uber. He was lucky that his request was fulfilled because if it wasn't, that wasn't going to stop him from getting to the hospital. He would have walked the ten miles if it meant that he could be by his wife's side. Jay's breathing is shallow and he knows that he seriously needs to get it under control before he passes out due to a lack of oxygen to the brain. It feels like the walls are closing in on him.

Jay uses the wall to guide himself to the baby's nursery. He grabs the stuffed panda, tucks it under his arm before walking out. He knows the Uber should be here soon, the driver wasn't too far away. He shoots a text off to Hank, asking for him to pick him up from the hospital in the morning because there's no way he's getting sleep in this apartment. He can't be alone right now and even though Erin is in a coma, just her presence alone will be enough.

 **3:52am.**

The overnight shift staff at the hospital didn't know him, -the daytime staff did. But, that didn't stop him from walking inside holding his cell in one hand and the panda in the other. A receptionist attempted to stop him but he simply walked right past her as if she didn't exist. He didn't cast her one glance even as she shouted for security.

Jay walked the halls as if he owned the place. For as often as he'd come to Chicago Med to interview witnesses, victims and suspects, he knew the place from top to bottom. He knew most of the staff on first shift but it had slipped his mind that he didn't know everyone. That much was reminded when security approached him, "Excuse me sir, but visiting hours do not start until eight in the morning. Come back in a few hours. We'll walk you out."

How insensitive could someone truly be? Here he was trying to process what happened to his wife when two mediocre fake me out security guards try to get in his way. Nothing would stop him from seeing her. Silently, Jay reached into his pocket, pulled out his badge and wrapped the chain it dangled from around his neck. The eyes of both security guards had widened at the realization that he was a cop. One backed down, accepting Jay's presence, but the other one wasn't so willing. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded towards the exit, "No special treatment, cop or no cop, unless you're here to interview someone for a case."

"I'm here to see my wife," it's the first thing he's said since his panic attack. He didn't even talk to his Uber driver when he got into the car.

"You'll have to see her at eight because that's when visiting hours start."

This was a waste of time. Jay hummed under his breath before walking around both of the guards in order to continue his quest towards his wife's private room. He turned the corner; he saw two guards sitting outside of her room, one asleep and one awake. They must be taking turns and rotating who gets to sleep and who gets to keep watch. Jay approached the door, nodded towards the officer that was currently on watch before entering his wife's room.

The security guard never tried to stop him again. Maybe his partner had talked him out of it? It was a good thing too because the last thing Jay wanted was to spend the night in a jail cell with charges of assault pending against him.

It was dark in his wife's room. The moon provided a fluorescent glow that illuminated her and made her appear angelic. He approached her bedside and carefully laid the stuffed panda next to her, "Maybe this can provide you some comfort when no one else is here," he whispered, voice choking up as he stared down at the wounds inflicted upon his wife. He could still see them despite the darkness. Jay felt a lone tear trail down his face and he quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand, "Did…did Charlie do this to you?" There was a beat of silence like he was actually expecting her to answer and a part of him was; he needed her help, "Was…was Annie involved? What about Landon? Did Teddy have something to do with this, your own brother?"

Another lone tear fell from his eye followed by another and another. It was unstoppable now because the floodgates had opened. He felt his body erupt into loud sobs, his shoulders shaking because of it. He couldn't do anything about it. He had lost control, all semblance of it. He couldn't stop crying; his tears fell onto the cotton blanket that was draped over her legs. It was thicker than the hospital sheet they usually had; someone must have brought it here for her. It soaked through the fabric, creating damp splotches all over the gray material.

"I need your help baby," he cried out, "I need you to tell me who did this to you. I need to know so I can get them and make them pay. Please," he reached his hand forward and immediately stopped himself from making contact when he realized that there was nowhere for him to touch that she wasn't hurt, bruised or injured. Someone did this; -more than one person did this.

Jay had backed away, leaving the panda cuddled up to the mother of its owner. He glanced around the room and realized the spare chairs were now being occupied by the officers outside of his wife's door. At the end of visiting hours, they must have ventured inside to grab them since they expected no more visitors. He didn't have anywhere to sit or sleep. And he refused to squeeze into her hospital bed out of fear that he'll knock into a machine, hit a tube or wire that was connected to her or unintentionally roll or press up against an injury. That bed was not an option. And it was too late to request a cot; he's already pressing his luck by being here and if he were to search anyone out, they may actually kick him out until the start of visiting hours.

Halstead lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the side of her hospital bed. Her hand dangled over the side of it, an IV inserted into the back of it, pumping fluids into her warm body. He felt that hand against his cheek and that was all the comfort he needed. The floor hurt to sit on and the side of the bed pained his back as it pressed against it but he wouldn't complain because if it meant that he could be near her then he's fine with it. He turned his head and gently pressed a lingering kiss against her hand, "I love you with all of me and you have to be okay."

When Jay saw her hand twitch, he wrote it off as a trick of the mind. It was the lack of sleep. It was a result of the dark room, his previous panic attack and the fact that his earlier emotional breakdown had left tears in his eyes that blurred his vision.

 **4:50am.**

Jay wakes up again because he's uncomfortable. A crook is developing in his neck and he twists his head side to side to try and get it out. When he turns his head to the left, he sees her hand. It's still there and it makes him smile just as he leans a few inches to the side to kiss it. The scent of her palm smells of a faint metallic smell and a hint of rubbing alcohol. The bandaged cut on the palm of her hand must have bled enough to leave traces of the smell even after trauma nurses cleaned up the gash. He kissed her hand again before leaning the side of his face against her opened palm, "I need you to be okay Er," as one of his hands holds her palm up to the side of his face, the other lightly caressed upon her knuckles, "You just have to be okay," his voice is shaky and he's struggling to suppress his tears; it's not working, "Do you know how hard it is to see you and not be able to hold you in my arms? To not be able to kiss you like I want to? To make love to you like I want to? You," he licks his dry lips to make it easier for him to finish his thought, "you're my best friend, my uh," he clears his throat, "my shoulder to lean on, to cry on and you're the one person, the one and only person I love and can count on. You're everything to me, Erin and I need you!" He's inconsolable, practically crying hysterically and if someone else were in the room, they wouldn't be able to interpret his words, "Life without you is pointless. Life without you isn't a life at all so you can't die. You can't die, Erin. That's not an option, because if you," he abruptly stops talking when he feels her hand move.

Dr. Rhodes had informed him that it was a possibility that Erin could hear him in her induced state. There was no scientific evidence behind it but if it kept faith and hope inside of a family member or friend's heart then it's worth it. So maybe she heard him? Maybe his begs and pleas were enough to spark some type of fight from her? She was trying to come back to him.

Her hand twitched.

Jay jumps to his feet, being mindful of her hand being held in his. He intertwines his hand with hers and moves it up to his lips, "Are you trying to wake up for me baby?" He clasps both hands around the one he was initially holding, squeezing it a little too tightly. It's stemming from excitement and anticipation. Was she waking up? Was she trying to tell him that she can hear him? Was she trying to soothe him? To let him know that she's there for him? He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses it as he stares down at her closed eyelids.

 _Come on, wake up_ , -he thinks. It's playing on a continuous loop in his head. And when he feels a slight, weaker twitch of her hand, he carefully lays it down on her bed before quietly stepping out of her room. Quietly, he sighs and shakes his head at that, because it was then that he realized even if he had left the room louder, it wouldn't wake her up any faster. Jay glanced around the empty hallways. The officer that was awake when he arrived was asleep now. The opposite officer that was asleep during his arrival was now awake and keeping watch.

He didn't want to go too far. He didn't want to leave her side for too long.

"Hey," he turns to face the officer that was awake, "I need you to get my wife's doctor," and when the officer seemed to lag or take his time in getting up, he raised his voice, "NOW."

Jay stormed back into his wife's room with the assumption that his order will be fulfilled and it didn't take long at all for the officer he ordered to open the door and lead an unfamiliar doctor into the room, "Detective Halstead, this is Dr. Cummings. He's assigned to her for the overnight shift. Dr. Rhodes will be back at eight in the morning." The officer exited the room and shut the door behind him after his brief introduction.

"Yes, yes," Jay waved for the doctor to enter and the two of them approached his wife's bed, "I felt her hand move. It twitched multiple times while I was holding it."

Halstead took a step back in order to allow the doctor to take a closer look. The examination wasn't thorough, if anything, it was done to appease the worriedly pacing man in the room.

"Your wife isn't waking up, at least not right now," Dr. Cummings began to explain, "take a seat Mr. Halstead, I want to explain a few things," the doctor nods towards the chair -one that Jay must have overlooked- before walking over to switch on the light, "I know the term coma sounds pretty scary and with it usually involves a lot of negative connotations, but this specific type of coma is used as a medical tool and I'm hoping if I break it down and help you understand it then you'll be able to relax just a little," Dr. Cummings briefly scans each machine connected to his patient before averting his eyes to the detective, "That IV," the doctor nods towards a specific one out of the many attached to her, "is pumping propofol into your wife to keep her sedated. It's also one of the drugs used as anesthesia when a person undergoes surgery so if you've ever had surgery, there's a possibility that propofol was the drug that put you to sleep. Think of it like that. Once the drug completely leaves your system, you wake up. It's not known to cause harm or complications during pregnancy, but we're monitoring closely just in case. You can never be too careful. We monitor for that or for any possible side effects."

Jay sits up straighter, "Side effects, like what?"

"Allergic reaction, although I doubt she's allergic to it because we would have already seen signs such as swelling of the tongue, closing of the throat, hives, among a few other things," the doctor informed, lifting the clipboard attached to the end of her bed to scribble down a few notes and observations, "we specifically monitor for major side effects like difficulty breathing, slow heartbeat, low blood pressure, seizures, pancreatitis, and propofol infusion syndrome, but I'm not too worried about the last one. That's more for long term treatment and according to this," he taps his pen against the clipboard he just sat back down, "when Dr. Rhodes prescribed for the sedative, he put it in to be gradually reduced. As of midnight, the dosage wasn't as strong as it was when she was first induced. Her next dose will be at eight in the morning and that amount is basically small enough to be a sleeping pill. After that dose, she'll be taken for another head CT scan to see if the swelling in her brain has gone down or at least has gone down enough to where Dr. Rhodes thinks it'll be medically beneficial to cease the sedative."

"What about the other thing that was wrong with her brain?" He couldn't remember the medical terminology for it again. He felt like such a horrible husband.

"Subdural hematoma," Dr. Cummings informed and Jay nodded along, knowing that once he heard the word, he would be able to recognize it, "That's what the brain surgery was for; her doctor performed a burr-hole trephination," he walked on over to the opposite side of her hospital bed, "this procedure, is the least invasive and to put it simply, involves the doctor drilling a hole into her skull where the subdural hematoma is located in order to suction the blood out. If you look right here," he waited for Jay to look but he couldn't bring himself to do so, "she's not in any pain, you can look," he waits a beat and then another before Halstead finally looks over, "you can see where her hair was clipped and they also used a depilatory to remove unwanted hair; it's not too noticeable but the doctors had to clear the area of operation to have a clear and clean field to see better and to prevent infection."

Jay appreciated this doctor breaking everything down for him. Even if it was after four in the morning, the doctor didn't appear to be in any hurry to leave.

"Just remind yourself that this is for her benefit. It's allowing her brain to rest, it's giving her time to heal and it's reducing the swelling in her brain." To remind oneself of that is easier said than done.

"What about when she moved?" Jay intertwined his hand with hers once again.

"A person in a coma Mr. Halstead is in a deep state of unconsciousness, not brain dead."

"How long can she be induced?"

Dr. Cummings sighs; he doesn't respond right away as he thinks of a way to answer. The machines in the room are the only sounds that fill the silence until he starts to talk, "It's hard to say, but it typically doesn't last longer than a few days. She's already being weaned off the sedative and that's really good and it speaks volumes, but you should know that once the sedative is out of her system, she'll wake up like one of those energy-saver lightbulbs. You know with a regular lightbulb, once you hit the switch the light comes on instantly. In cases like this, you hit a switch, the light comes on and it's dim. The longer the light is on, the more it starts to brighten up. In terms of the actual lightbulb, it could take half an hour, but in terms of this, it could take hours to days. So, just give her time when she wakes up."

 _When_ , Jay noted that. The doctor wouldn't have used that if it wouldn't happen, right? Jay felt a growing urge to smile, finding peace in everything the doctor had explained to him.

"It's late, or I guess, really early. I'm going to tell the nurse to get a cot for you. Maybe you can get a few hours of sleep? I don't want to have to explain to you the importance of that."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Cummings."

The doctor nodded and made his way towards the door, "Oh, and detective," he waited for Jay to look over his shoulder, "I'm sorry about your wife. I have her in my prayers."

Halstead turns back to his wife, grasping her hand tighter in his and bringing it up to his lips. He kisses her fingers before laying her hand inside the crook of his neck. He cuddles into her touch and whispers, "You hear that babe. First Dr. Rhodes promises you won't die and you'll make it and then Dr. Cummings reassures me that you're healing properly and should be awake soon. I just have to be patient for a little bit longer."

He doesn't know how much time passes before two hospital orderlies roll in a cot and set it up for him beside his wife's bed. It wasn't his bed at home. It wasn't even close to being his couch, but it was definitely better than the floor and the hospital chair. He wouldn't complain. He would simply just fall asleep, her hand intertwined with his.

 **8:20am.**

Jay springs awake, sitting up so fast that he felt the unsteady cot shake. He feels his heart racing and his mind attempt to piece together the puzzle of the night before. He looks to his left and he sees the expanse of the hospital room with the bathroom door being wide open. He looks to his right and he sees nothing but a window drawn open with sun shining through the glass.

His wife's hospital bed is gone. His wife is gone. He jumps up and starts to frantically pace. It's not like she could have gotten up and walked out. Someone took her. Where is she?

"Erin!" he shouts as he runs to the door and throws it open. Both guards are gone.

Halstead's eyes are strung out, so wide that they're straining. He walks down the hallway, peeking into every room that he passed, only earning a few strong choice words from family members as they kick him out of their loved ones' hospital rooms. He turns the hall, heading towards a door that very clearly says that no visitors should past the threshold, but he has every intention of crossing it. That is, until he feels a strong hand wrap around his shoulder and yank him back, "Just where the hell do you think you're going?" It's his brother.

"It's Erin, she's gone; I have to find her!"

"They took her for tests," Will asserted, yanking his brother along. They're walking back towards her hospital room, "I didn't know if you bought a change of clothes with you so I packed you an overnight bag. Voight's on his way to pick you up. Go in her bathroom, wash your face, brush your teeth and get dressed. I'll be waiting for you in her room."

"…but, wait," Jay whispers, catching the overnight bag Will tossed in his direction.

"Jay," his brother approached him; his voice is soft and his face is solemn, -he's concerned, "I worry about you. Dr. Cummings called me this morning to inform me that you made a scene last night and you decided to spend the night. I thought you were going to stay at home."

"I couldn't…"

"Jay," Will starts.

"I couldn't okay," Jay snapped, tossing the overnight bag to the ground, "You make it sound like that's such an easy thing to do! I tried to sleep there! I fell asleep in my baby's room and then I had a panic attack and next thing I know I'm here! I'm here and I practically had to fight my way to see my wife and there's no progress, she's still comatose or asleep or whatever you want to call it! And I just came here to be close to her, I needed to be physically close to her and him."

Jay ended with that. He swiped his overnight bag from the floor, stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, leaving his brother to wait in his wife's hospital room as he got ready.

 **8:55am.**

Mouse had walked in the second that Jay had walked out, trading positions as if she was a kid that needed babysitting. With the promise that he'll keep him updated on all things related to Erin or baby Halstead, Jay felt a little relieved that she wouldn't be alone and if by the slim chance she woke up while he was away, a familiar face will be there to comfort her. Jay sits in the passenger seat beside his boss as they leave the hospital and head towards the district. They would have left sooner, but Jay refused to leave without an update on his wife.

Her head CT scan looked good. And he trusted none of the doctors to lie to him. She's not out of the woods just yet, but the topic of ceasing treatment came up.

Dr. Rhodes is going to continue weaning her off and reduce the drugs and anesthesia and hopefully, maybe, possibly as early as tonight, she might wake up. Each of them, Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Manning and his own brother Dr. Halstead emphasized just how unlikely that would be. They all cited the analogy Dr. Cummings had used yesterday, or to put in more technical terms, earlier today, to describe the speed it'll take for someone to wake up from a coma, -whether medically induced or not. That must have been an analogy used when they were in medical school since they all seem to know it. She'll get another dose of the anesthesia, one that is much smaller than her last one and then after this dose, she will not be getting anymore. She's getting weaned off. And it's a gradual process, one that requires patience because it could take hours or days for her to wake up.

Her head CT scan provided positive results, he keeps reminding himself. It's what helped him leave without a fight. It's what motivated him to climb inside Voight's truck, update him on their girl's prognosis and then head to the district to bury himself in this case.

She's not out of the woods just yet, he remembers Dr. Rhodes saying more than once as if to make sure that Jay heard him the first three times. He did. He heard everything, including the whispers about how you never really know the full extent of a person suffering from head trauma until they wake up. It's the waiting game; he overheard a nurse who had come into the room to move and rotate Erin around to prevent long-term muscle damage and bed sores whisper to an orderly who had entered the room to document her temperature, pulse and respiration rate that no doctor can know the full extent of her injuries until she wakes up.

Jay had gotten an update from Natalie on the current state of his baby. Nothing has changed, he's still in distress, which can be considered good and bad news. Natalie was still pressing him to make a decision and if he doesn't have one made by noon then she'll assume that he wants her to do nothing, to let nature or fate take its course because not making a decision is, in fact, a decision. And if it is not chosen for them to act and perform a C-section to get the baby out then the only other option becomes the clear choice, -wait it out.

It's a little too quiet in the car. It's filled with eerie silence. It's a ghostly silence that makes Jay feel like they're mourning someone. No one died. He has to fill it, "Uh, it seems we're going to wait it out. Natalie will perform the C-section if it's absolutely necessary."

"If they wait it out and the baby continues to be in distress, there is no guarantee they'll get to him in time. There's no guarantee they'll be able to save him."

"I know," Jay snapped, squeezing his eyes shut, "I don't need you reminding me."

Voight stops the car at a red light and uses the opportunity to look at him, "There's no third option," and when Halstead shakes his head to silently answer the question, Hank sighs; "damn."

 **9:18am.**

"There were no skid marks at the crime scene," Voight taped up a picture of Erin's car to the whiteboard, "There was no broken glass," he posted up another picture of the car, one that was zoomed in, "No sign of forced entry into her vehicle. And all four of her tires were slashed," he attached another photo to the whiteboard, one that was of her car's tire, "This wasn't a robbery or a random carjacking, this was personal; this was targeted," the last photo he tapes to the board is of her face, it was captured during the ambulance ride for evidentiary purposes, "no one does that," he points to her face and Jay sucks in a deep breath, "without it being personal."

That picture was posted to remind them of what they're doing and why they're doing it. It's there to keep them focused, to keep them on track and motivated.

"Where do we even start?" Kim whispers, staring at the board filled with photos.

"…with this," Dawson tapes up the legal pad piece of paper that Charlie had written on, "he did this, I'm sure of it, and I think the alibis he provided were all accomplices in his crime."

Voight is seated against the corner of Olinsky's desk, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stares at the photos. It's hard to break his eyes away. It's hard to see Erin like that, but he needs to, he needs to remember, he needs the reminder, he needs to see the damage that those bastards had done to her. It had to be more than one person. It had to be an ambush. And he was prepared to voice that, to back up Dawson's theory that Charlie and his alibis were the ones responsible, but the sight of Platt leading a petite woman up the stairs had distracted him. He rose from his seated position against the corner to approach, "Sergeant, what's going on?"

And before Platt could provide an introduction, Halstead had cut her off with one word, "Mary."

"Jay," the woman rushed over to the familiar face in the room; she was petite with black hair that was peppered in gray, she had to be in her early fifties, "I saw the news. I saw what happened to Erin and I think I might have some information that may help."

"Please sit…" he waves for Ruzek to bring over a chair. He takes her hand and helps her sit.

"Halstead, what is going on? Who is this?" Voight nodded towards the mystery lady just as Platt made her way back downstairs.

"This is Mary, my neighbor," the woman waved as he introduced her, "she lives down the hall from us. Mary, what's going on? You said you think you might have some information."

She nods; she's a little out of breath so Burgess excuses herself to retrieve a water bottle from the breakroom. Mary takes a small sip of the cold beverage before starting, "I would have come sooner but I just saw the breaking news not too long ago."

"That's quite alright," Jay gently squeezes her shoulder to reassure her.

"Yesterday morning I was leaving out to walk my dog and I saw Erin in a heated argument."

No one on the team seemed to provide her with the reaction that she expected so she continued after another sip of water, "And it wasn't the first time I saw them arguing either."

"Is the person she was arguing with another neighbor?" Atwater had asked. He suspected it may have been over property or because of a disturbance. Neighbors do get into disagreements.

Mary shakes her head hard enough that a few curly strands fall out of her loose bun, "He's not a neighbor. I know everyone who lives in our building," Jay nods to back that up; he remembers when they moved in a few months before Erin found out she was pregnant and Mary took it upon herself to bake them a pie, knock on their door and introduce herself, "I've caught them arguing more than once about you," she turns to Halstead, "and it was getting bad and I didn't think anything of it because she's a cop so I figured I didn't need to call the cops because she is one," and now Mary is working herself up, "If he's responsible, I'll never forgive myself!"

Jay lowers himself to a stooped position, knowing that being eye level with her will make him seem less intimidating. He looks into her blue eyes and he sees the hurt, the fear, the sadness and the sorrow living behind her orbs, "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault. The only person who should be blamed is the person or the people responsible," he gave her hands a comforting squeeze and that's when he saw that her nails were chewed down to her cuticles, "She wouldn't blame you so you shouldn't blame yourself. Now Mary, I need you to think really hard about this, do you remember her ever saying his name?"

"I can do you one better," Mary sighed, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips as she unclasps her purse and pulls out a small, ripped off piece of paper; it's barely the size of an average post-it note, "I overheard him on the phone with his parole officer; it was for a check-in, but he had the man on speaker and when he checked in, he had to state his whole name and birthdate. I wrote it down on a gum wrapper," that's what that little piece of paper is; "I didn't want to forget."

Jay unfolded the gum wrapper in his hands and read the name scribbled in small font. When Jay handed the wrapper to his boss, the rest of the team noticed the look on his face, the red in his eyes and the way his hands instinctively clench into a fist. Voight crumbs the wrapper in his hands and walks on over to the whiteboard to grab a marker and add the new name to the list of suspects. It's only when Voight pops the top back onto the marker and step to the side that the team sees, reads and recognizes the name written, -Lonnie Rodiger.

 **10:07am.**

It didn't take long for Mary to leave after that. It was almost time for her to take her daily health medication and she had left it all at home. After profusely thanking her for her much appreciated help, Jay had walked her to her car. On his way back, his phone rang.

It's Mouse.

He immediately answered, "Hey, did you find anything? How's Erin?"

"…still asleep," he answered. Erin wasn't asleep. She's in a coma. There's a difference.

"How's my baby?"

Mouse sighed; he had thought Will was going to update his brother, "It's not looking good, Jay. I think they're going to schedule a C-section for noon." Jay had feared that. It meant that the baby's distress was only getting worse. He couldn't even walk up the remainder of the stairs; instead he took a seat on them, taking advantage of the solitude since his team upstairs couldn't see him and he was behind the gate so the officers and sergeants in the lobby couldn't hear him.

"Uh," Jay cleared his throat and batted the tears out of his eyes, "you make sure they don't start without me. I need to be there."

"…I don't think you can be in the operating room."

"Mouse!"

"It's considered major surgery and every hospital is different and it all depends on their policy. They may have made an exception but considering how critical it all is, they don't want anyone in the room but essential personnel."

Jay glanced up the stairwell, noticing the curious looks from the team who were all peering down. He sighed; he'd been caught. And instead of getting upset, he stands and places the call on speaker, "Even if I can't be in the room, I can still be there. Don't let them start without me."

"You have my word," Mouse asserts. A pregnant pause settles in the room, only being interrupted in intervals by the sounds of beeping machines.

"Um, did you find anything on Lonnie?" He needed to change the conversation. He needed to find something, do something, especially before the surgery because he knew after his son is born that the hospital will become his permanent living address, at least until they're discharged.

"I did. I found out that Lonnie was released from prison a few months ago," he said as the sound of medical monitors and machines beeped distantly in the background, "five months ago to be more exact. And I found something a bit more interesting," Jay didn't appreciate the suspense; he needed to know, "he was locked up in the same prison as Charlie; they were cellmates."

That's all Jay needed to hear before he hung up.

 **10:41am.**

Once word spread through the law enforcement community that Lonnie Rodiger was needed for questioning, his parole officer dragged him into the station. Jay immediately recognized him when Platt led him and his parole officer up the stairs of Intelligence and it took every ounce of willpower and self-control to keep his fist from making impact with his face.

"Who are they?" Burgess whispered in the direction of Dawson and Olinsky.

"That's Lonnie," they nod their heads towards the felon, "and I'm not sure who that is, but he looks downright pissed," Dawson replied. And soon enough they got their answer when his parole officer flashed his credentials.

Platt left once the team led Lonnie and his parole officer into an interrogation room. Jay fell behind only because he made a stop at the whiteboard to grab the zoomed in photo of Lindsay's face. She was considered a victim, so they had to still take the necessary steps, including capturing photos of the body. Jay pushed his way through Dawson and Olinsky when they made an effort to enter the interrogation room, "You guys interrogated Charlie yesterday; it's my turn!" And if he thought he was going to be able to go into the room alone, then he was highly mistaken. One look from Voight sent Burgess in the room with him.

"I want you to look at this," Jay growled, shoving the photo into Lonnie's face, "Did you have something to do with this?" He's not beating around the bush; he doesn't have time for that, he has to be at the hospital by noon, "Did you do this?"

Burgess grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. She was stronger than people gave her credit for. She pushed Jay into a seat on the opposite side of the table and the look she cast his way said everything. It said that she was taking charge of this and if he wanted to sit in the interrogation then he would restrain himself. They couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

Jay understood everything her silent expression said, but it didn't stop him from recoiling his fist and landing a punch across his face. Lonnie fell back and his parole officer jumped to his feet, looking at Halstead as if he was actually shocked that this man had punched a known pedophile and convicted sex offender in the face. Burgess rolled her eyes. She couldn't fault him for that, but she knew as well as Jay did that this was a one-time thing.

"Shit man," Lonnie cried out, hand coming up to rub against his reddened face.

"You deserve more than that," Jay asserted, falling back into the seat he once sat in, "you deserve so much more than that but I guess only the guys in jail can truly make you feel and understand the enormity of your transgressions." He shook his hand in an effort to shake the pain off his knuckles. It provided minimal relief.

Lonnie spat, "I should sue you." He dropped his hands. There's a red mark against his cheek that only needed a few hours for a bruise to develop.

"Go ahead," Jay shrugged his shoulders. He already felt like he lost so much already, what's a few more things? Nothing could top the hurt caused by his wife and baby laid up in the hospital.

His parole officer stepped forward and cleared his throat as a way to remind everyone that he was still in the room. He didn't need to though; there's no way any of them could forget. The guy is practically six foot six, probably almost 300 pounds soaking wet with muscles protruding through his Henley. Lonnie leaned back against the wall, eyes shutting, "Why am I here? What did I do now? Or what do you think I did?"

"You see what happened to my wife," he nodded towards the photo laid out on the table, "and we have a witness that said they saw you arguing with her multiple times before the attack."

"Yeah…so…"

Jay bit his lip. Burgess stepped forward to take charge, "That's harassment. And if you had anything to do with the attack then that's assault and attempted murder."

"Wait. Wait. Wait," Lonnie throws his hands in the air and his eyes go up to meet those of his parole officer, trying to convince him more so of his innocence than the detectives in the room, "I didn't do this. I didn't do that," he pushes the photo away, "I'm a lover, not a fighter. And I would never hurt a pregnant woman!"

"Why should we believe you," Jay stands up, "you would hurt a kid so what's keeping you from hurting a pregnant woman?"

"I…I," Lonnie stutters because he's overwhelmed. He's growing hot. Does he know something?

"Why did you keep showing up to my place to see her?"

At that, Lonnie looks taken aback. His head recoils and now he's turning to face Jay, "I didn't go to see her. I always went to see you. She wouldn't let me."

Between having lunch with Annie, filing a restraining order against Charlie and being harassed by Lonnie, the array of secrets Erin has kept in these last few months seem endless. And he couldn't even ask her about them. He doesn't even want to.

"Why did you want to see me?"

"…to make amends."

And Jay found that extremely hard to believe.

"She wouldn't let me see you because she said I would only piss you off," well she was right about that, Jay thought, "After our last run in years ago when you almost lost your badge, she said she didn't want a repeat of that, but I needed to make amends. It's a part of my rehabilitation."

"I'm not interested," Jay spat, leaning over the table. The parole officer stepped forward, preparing to protect Lonnie from another hit. One punch was enough and he could let it past, he wouldn't allow another. But, Jay had no desire to hit him again, he was saving the remainder of his anger for the ones who truly deserve it, "You molested and killed a kid and then took a plea deal to avoid life in prison. You pled to manslaughter and got a measly minimum of ten years. You don't deserve forgiveness."

"Yeah, Erin said as much."

"…and yet you continued to visit," Burgess chimed back in.

"I have a hard time of accepting the answer no."

"And that's exactly why you're on the sex offender registry," Halstead retorted, looking up to meet the eyes of the parole officer, Tim, "did he violate his parole?" Lonnie was sentenced to twenty years, but after ten years he was eligible for parole. He made it and if he violated his parole in any way then he would have to serve his remaining time with no more parole hearings.

"…not that I'm aware of."

"And if he had something to do with this," Jay lifted the photo of his wife.

"He'll have to serve the remaining ten years of his sentence behind bars in addition to whatever he's sentenced to for those charges if found guilty."

Jay retook his seat and laid the picture down in front of him. It was his way of reminding himself why he's doing this. It was a motivation to keep pushing even though every second of the day he just wanted to break down and cry his eyes out. Jay ran his good hand –the one he didn't use to hit Lonnie- down his face before sighing, "Where were you yesterday around two in the afternoon?" It was protocol to ask this in an investigation.

"He was with me," the parole officer answered on Lonnie's behalf, "it was an unscheduled check-in where I popped up at his place of residence. He's due for those twice a month."

Halstead nodded, he trusted what the parole officer had to say because Lonnie wasn't worth losing your job for, but it didn't mean that Lonnie wasn't an accessory after the fact or had communication with the person responsible. Jay wasn't ruling anything out and that much was clear by the way Lonnie sat up straighter, looking between Burgess and Halstead and pleaded, "I'm telling you the truth. I didn't do this. I had no part in this."

"You know," Jay leaned forward, "if we took the word of all criminals that declared their innocence or said they had nothing to do with a crime then all the prisons would be empty."

"I don't know what I can do to make you believe me then."

Jay extended his hand towards him, "Can I see your phone?"

"Do you have a warrant to see it, detective?"

"No, but I'm hoping you show good faith. If you had nothing to do with this then you wouldn't mind letting me see your phone?"

So with a restrained sigh, Lonnie reached into his pocket and slid his phone across the table. Jay looked up at Burgess to see her pick it up and slide it into an evidence bag he didn't see her bring in. He'll give it to Mouse and have him look through it. Even if Lonnie deleted anything, they'll still be able to find it. And if Lonnie had any outside contact with Charlie or one of his named alibis, then they'll bring him back in for questioning. And maybe, hopefully a possible arrest.

 **11:25am.**

Lonnie may have been adamant that he didn't have any parts in what happened, but it didn't mean that anyone believed him. He may have cited his parole officer as his alibi but it was possible that after the check-in, he left to meet up with Charlie to carry out this assault, but what did Annie, Landon and Teddy have to do with it? And what if his parole officer was covering up, or maybe embellishing on the facts. Charlie had named Annie, Landon and Teddy as his alibis and that meant that if he was responsible for what happened to Erin then they had to know something about it. Nothing was adding up. And it was driving the team crazy.

"Mouse," Voight growls into the phone pressed against his ear, "Halstead will be bringing the phone around noon when he comes to the hospital but right now I need a location for Landon and Teddy. I need you to send us their addresses because I need them brought in for questioning."

 **11:48am.**

It didn't take long to find Landon, but Teddy wasn't at the location listed in his DMV record. Hank called for a patrol car to sit outside, to wait and watch for Teddy to show up. They had direct orders not to leave until he was in cuffs and sitting in their backseat, not because he's being arrested, but because they needed to scare him into telling the truth.

The team was pretty sure that Charlie was behind it; they were confident that he was the ring leader but the more questions they answered, the more questions that were raised and left unanswered. Voight was sitting against the corner of Lindsay's desk, staring down at a photo she had placed on her desk a few months ago, it was of the two of them and it was a day that Voight would never forget as they celebrated Dawson's birthday; she couldn't drink that day, she knew she was pregnant –Jay did too- but they didn't tell the team until the next day.

Voight wiped beneath his eyes, catching the tears before they trickled down his face. His finger trailed down the picture, circling her face as he took in her smile, "You gotta be alright kid."

"Sir," Atwater regrettably interrupted his sergeant's moment, but Voight played it off. He blinked through the building tears in his eyes and quickly rose to his feet, "Sorry to interrupt but I just wanted you to know that Landon's here, they're bringing him up now."

He was picked up by Burgess and Ruzek; he ordered Halstead to remain here. He wouldn't let him bring anyone in unless Voight decided to partner up with him. No one would be able to handle Halstead right now, no one but Voight, so releasing Halstead out into the world wouldn't do anyone, especially Erin, any good.

Voight walks into the interrogation room, feeling a burning energy inside of him increase, pushing him to lead the interrogation. He would normally see if their stories matched up –Landon and Charlie's stories- but Voight wouldn't have been surprised if Charlie reached out to his old buddy to update him on everything he's told the investigators on the case. Voight would need a new tactic and Olinsky walked into the room, knowing he's the only one who can truly hold Hank back if things were to get out of hand.

Silently he sits; he waits for Landon to enter the room, noticing there wasn't a lawyer trailing behind. Well, this should be fun. Voight doesn't bother standing up. Instead he points towards the chair he expects Landon to sit in. Landon walked a limp and he has a few scratches decorating his arms; Voight couldn't help but wonder the cause of it. He's never had any problem with Landon in the past, at least, not a direct problem which led the two men to be face to face like today. He allows an uneasy silence to spread through the room, relaxing as he knows the rest of the team is watching through the two-way mirror. He knows Landon is growing anxious and worried with each quiet second that passes; he doesn't know where the interrogation is going to go and he finds himself even more nervous that it seems like Voight is leading it.

"Where were you yesterday around two in the afternoon?" He gets right to it.

"I was with Annie, Charlie and Teddy," it sounds rehearsed Olinsky thinks.

"…doing what?" Olinsky pulls out the chair beside his boss, taking a seat as he waits.

Landon shrugs, "Just hanging out…what is this in reference to?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know."

Landon meets Hank's eyes and a staring contest ensues which results in Landon immediately breaking contact when Voight managed to stare into his soul without blinking. He was a ball of restless energy right now and he needed to release it somehow; he needed air. Landon needed to get out of here, "Is that all? Can I go now?" He stands.

"Sit. Back. Down." Voight muttered through gritted teeth. It obviously wasn't a question or a suggestion, it was an order. It was one that was immediately followed-up by Landon doing as he was told. He gulped and it was pretty painful because the aching ball stuck in his throat kept coming back the more he waited and the longer Voight stared.

"What is this about?" Landon took a chance by re-asking his question.

But, neither of the detectives answered. Instead, Voight moved forward with his approach, "Why'd you do it?" Hearing this, Landon scrunched up his face in confusion, "Why'd you hurt her? What has she ever done to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy!" The defense mechanism started to kick in. Landon felt every urge to protect himself. He rose to his feet and his eyes grew wide at the accusation, "I didn't come here to be accused of anything. I just came to answer questions and clear my name! If you're trying to say I did a crime then that means I need an attorney and you can't talk to me unless I have one. Good day to you, but I'm out of here."

Voight rose to his feet and moved to block the door. He said very few words. The team thought he would have had more to say but he spent most of the interrogation staring the suspect down. It was a tactic used to drop weak suspects to their knees and maybe get an unintentional confession out of them, "Before I let you go," Voight set his hand down on Landon's shoulder, "I just need you to know something. When we have the proof and we will find the proof then you and your party of cohorts will be charged with two counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of attempted murder, one for Erin and one for her baby and two counts of first and second degree aggravated assault and battery and that's if the two of them make it out of this alive. If you talk, I'll be sure to put in a good word with the prosecutor but if you put me through the added grief of stretching myself thin and dividing my time between being by her side at the hospital and being here to investigate what you all did to her then I'm going to make sure you suffer in every sense of the word. Illinois doesn't have the death penalty but you know I've always been one to take the law into my own hands, especially when it involves my kids," Hank steps to the side and opens the door, "hopefully you consider my offer because once you leave out of the precinct, it's off the table."

Hank's goal was to get inside of Landon's head and make him sweat and it appeared to be working if the lack of eye contact and the way he practically ran out of the room was anything to go by. He wanted to put fear into the heart of Landon, he wanted him to run out and tell his friends what he said; he wanted them all to know that Voight was onto them because scared people made stupid mistakes.

"Sir," Voight was broken out of his focus by the soft knocking on the door; it was Halstead and when he looked up to meet the detective's eyes, he continued, "it's almost 12. I need to get to the hospital. The uh, the doctors are doing a C-section at noon and I really need to be there."

Voight understood; he needed to be there too.

 **12:00pm.**

Halstead didn't expect for it to be so much traffic. He turned on his lights and sirens and had made it to the hospital with no time to spare. Voight is trailing behind him followed by the rest of the team because they're going to need all the support they can get. Erin was going under the knife and if everything went well, in a few hours, Jay should be the proud father of a baby boy.

Whether he's healthy or not has yet to be determined. Whether all of his little organs are fully functional or not is yet to be determined. Whether he's going to pull through and even take a puff of this outside air is yet to be determined. Whether his wife will survive this surgery is yet to be determined. For the doctors to get paid so much and go to school for so long, they couldn't provide him with many answers.

In the past day, he's been back and forth to the hospital so many times that his body was on autopilot and led him to where he needed to be. He walked into Erin's hospital room, handed Lonnie's phone to Mouse before turning to face his wife. She looked so peaceful. She was medically induced yet it looked like she was sleeping. Her eyes are closed, breathing tubes connected to her mouth, IVs connected to her hands and the bruises outlining her body were big and bold under the daytime sun. The hours before her scheduled surgery she had lab work done and blood tests run as they had to make sure there were no further medical issues that the doctors had initially overlooked. They needed to be prepared for any and everything.

Erin remained in the gown she had been dressed in since her arrival. She had a yellow cap on covering her hair and the nurses were prepping her body for surgery. He didn't know if he could be in the room, all hospitals are different, but he had every intention of following until he's turned away. Suddenly Natalie steps into the room, a small smile on her face as she walks over carrying scrubs, "These are for you. You'll have to wear this if you wish to be in the operating room," a sigh of relief, a breath of whatever feeling coursed through his body had escaped.

Halstead didn't know where Voight had gone, possibly to the waiting room, knowing that the number of visitors to Erin's room was limited and with Mouse already here, and the nurses were shuffled in to prepare her for surgery, he would probably be turned away. Jay wasted no time going into the bathroom in her private room to change into the scrubs provided and by the time he left the bathroom, Erin was prepped, the wheels on the bed were unlocked and he took a hold of her warm and weak hand to hold it as he walked alongside her bed.

The operating room was probably the cleanest place in the hospital. It was sterilized and it smelled of chemicals that probably weren't sold on shelves in stores. She's moved from the bed to the operating table by a few of the surgical nurses and that was the only time he had to leave her side during the operation. The rest of the time, when they set the curtain up above her chest separating them from the surgical team and when they actually brought the sharp, surgical instrument down to her abdomen to cut, he remained by her side, holding her hand so tight that he was afraid he might break it. This wasn't how their child is supposed to be delivered. He and Erin had a plan; they had prepped an overnight bag, a baby bag that contained an actual onesie to dress their baby in when it's time for him to be brought home. He didn't have his camera. He didn't have his wife. He didn't have anyone. And as he listened to the team shout orders and commands as they carefully worked on his wife, he felt hollow, a regret of some sort as he immediately changed his mind about being here.

If Erin couldn't be here for the delivery then why should he? Why should he get the memory of their child being born but not her? This wasn't fair. Jay leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his wife's and he closed his eyes during the entire procedure. His back grew stiff but he never once stood back up to check on the progress or to ask questions. He didn't even know the procedure was over until she was stapled back up and the curtain was removed.

He reopened his eyes and straightened back up, glancing around the room as he searched and searched but he didn't find the one person he needed to see. He looked for Natalie but he couldn't find her either, "Where's my son?" His voice wavered but fortunately the surgical team understood and one of the nurses answered, "He was rushed to the NICU; Dr. Manning and half the team took him, she's going to personally oversee his care along with the neonatologist."

"I…I didn't get to cut the cord." It seems it's meant for them to be robbed of this entire experience. Erin couldn't be awake to give birth. Neither of them could hold their son. He couldn't cut the umbilical cord. Whoever did this had robbed them of everything. Jay glanced back down at his wife, his vision blurry because the tears in his eyes were so overwhelming.

"I'm sorry Mr. Halstead, but baby had stopped breathing and time was of the essence. The sooner we acted, the better the results. We had to cut and take him up to NICU to run tests and put him in an infant warmer. If you would like, I'm sure once I finish up with your wife, I can take you upstairs to see your son."

In what world does it sound right for him to be able to see their son without his wife, without the woman who carried their baby, nurtured him and protected him? In what world is it possible for everyone to get to see him and hold him before he and Erin had the chance? He doesn't even know what his baby looks like; he doesn't even know what his baby's cry sounds like. He doesn't know anything about his kid because the second they pulled him from his mother's stomach, they took him away.

 **12:42pm.**

For the first time since his wife arrived to the hospital, he didn't fight when the nurses asked him to leave. He doesn't argue because he felt bile rise up in his throat and he rushed to the nearest trashcan to let it out. His stomach was already empty and he only emptied it more.

The nurse had promised that she would come find him once they finished cleaning Erin up and taking her back to her private room. He simply nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stumbled out of the room and he practically felt himself floating as he changed back into his clothes and walked down the hallway, towards the waiting room where he knew the team was sitting and waiting for updates.

Halstead knew his eyes were red; his pupils were dilated. His mouth was dry and his skin was pale and based on how horrible he looked, the team had assumed the worst. It took him shaking his head to get them to calm down, "They're both still alive." That was all the good news he had. He had no further updates because everything else from here is touch and go. The baby was delivered and right now he's a few floors up fighting for his life just as his mother is in the ICU.

"…what about the baby? How did he look?" That voice was familiar yet new. It was the voice of someone he hadn't seen in a while. He didn't think to scan the waiting room when he walked in. He had been too consumed by his emotions to pay attention to all who were in the room; instead, he chose to zero in on an empty seat that was the closest to the trashcan just in case his stomach started to churn again. He wiped his eyes and turned his head to focus on the person who had spoken and to see his mother-in-law, looking at him with so much hope and fear in her eyes had him reeling, "Who'd invited her to come? Who called her? Why would someone call her?" He throws himself to his feet and storms towards her; "Get out of here. Erin wouldn't want you here and that means I don't either. LEAVE!" He screamed at the top of his lungs; the gust of air that left his mouth made a few strands on her head waver.

Bunny gulped but said nothing. Now was not the time to act like Bunny Fletcher. She truly feared that any and all restraint in the detective was gone. One hand belonging to Dawson fell upon his shoulder and one hand belonging to his brother who had suddenly arrived fell on the opposite one; they tugged him back and far away from Bunny, forcing him to sit at the other side of the waiting room, "Why is she here? Who the fuck would invite her?" He looks up and stares at her, his glare seeping into her entire form as she tries to bite back tears, "For all we know, she probably had something to do with this! It's not the first time she's manipulated things to get Erin back in her life! What's stopping her from hiring someone to do this in an attempt to come swooping in like some kind of anti-hero and comforting her hurting daughter? She's a fucking psycho, sitting there, pretending like she's some kind of decent mother!"

He wasn't holding back. He was letting it all out because he was hurting. And hurt people, hurt people. He wanted her to hurt like he was hurting. He needed them to hurt because suffering alone was absolutely no fun. His brother dropped down onto his knees in front of him, grabbing his hands and meeting his eyes, "Jay," his voice wavers because if there's anyone that's hurting for him, it's Will, "Jay," he desperately tugs onto his brother's hands to get his attention, "When is the last time you ate?" He shrugs his shoulders because he honestly couldn't remember.

There was a conversation in the background which ended in Atwater disappearing to bring him lunch from the hospital cafeteria. It was no point in trying to eat because nothing was going to stay down anyway. He needed his wife. He needed his son. He needed his family.

"I'm here because Voight called me," Bunny admitted. And those words felt like an absolute betrayal as Halstead turned in his seat to face his boss, "how could you?"

"She's Erin's mother; I didn't invite her to come to the hospital but I thought she should know. I would want to know if it was my kid."

Jay turned away from him, fighting back the words that threatened to come out because he knew if he said those words, he would lose his job. And he was already losing his wife and son; he couldn't lose his career too. Jay swallowed back a lump in his throat and kept quiet as he waited for the nurse to come and retrieve him. And he was prepared to drop it, to save that energy for those who truly deserve it when he saw Teddy rushing in, the sleeve tats on his arms bright and colorful as he throws on his leather jacket and runs up to his mother, "How is she?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know," Jay rose to his feet and his brother and Antonio were immediately back at his side, ready to hold him back if he moved in too close; he turned to glance in Voight's direction, "Did you call him too?"

"No," Hank answered.

"I did," Bunny clarified, moving her purse off the empty seat next to her, allowing her only son to take the seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the hard plastic, "and I get that you're upset Jay but that doesn't give you the right to insinuate anything."

"I didn't mean to insinuate or imply anything. I meant to state it clearly; I'm pretty sure Teddy knows exactly what happened to my wife and he's only here to see if 1) she will pull through and be able to identify him as a culprit or 2) if her memory is still intact and therefore be able to identify him. Isn't that right, brother-in-law?"

"Ma, I have no idea what he's talking about! It must be the grief."

Sitting in the waiting room had turned from an update on the status of his wife to a casual interrogation as Voight chimed in, "Where were you yesterday around two in the afternoon?"

"I don't know," Teddy shrugged his shoulders, "Why?"

"…we ask the questions," Dawson retorted, "If you don't remember where you were, do you remember who you were with."

"…probably my friends," he shrugged again. And now he was avoiding eye contact. He had something to hide and was afraid that if they looked into his eyes, they would see it all.

"Really Teddy," Jay whispered, flopping back down into his seat, defeated, "we have motives for everyone else responsible, but you. I can't figure that out. Why would you want to hurt your own sister? Why would you want to hurt an innocent baby? As her brother, why would you allow anyone to hurt your sister like that?"

"I didn't do anything," Teddy proclaimed, voice quivering and breaking with each syllable said, "I…I didn't do anything." His eyes watered and before he could say anything else, Bunny stands and takes his hand, pulling him away before he could speak another word.

 **1:08pm.**

By the time Atwater came back with a sandwich, a bag of chips and a water bottle, the ER nurse had appeared, ready to take him up to see his son. He was ready to go, but his brother, who had apparently deemed himself as Jay's guardian had forced him to sit and eat. If not, he could pass out and he wouldn't be useful to anyone, especially the team and Erin. That's why Jay ate without arguing. And fortunately the sandwich and chips stayed down and the water quenched his thirst and treated his dry mouth. He tossed his garbage into the nearby trashcan and then jumped to his feet, his brother and Voight following soon after.

And he was happy that Bunny and Teddy had walked away because he knew if they were still here, they would try to see him too. Neither of them had any right to his kid, -not until Erin woke up to tell him what she wanted.

Jay followed behind the nurse and his brother kept close, "Will," he waited for his brother to look in his direction, "can you make sure Bunny and Teddy are not allowed to go to the NICU to see my baby?" It didn't take much convincing because there was nothing that Will wouldn't do for his brother right now, "I just…I just don't trust them."

Will reassured him. He uttered a promise and that's why when they arrived to the floor of the NICU, his brother disappeared for a moment to talk to the staff on the floor, all sitting behind the nurses' station to inform them. Dr. Halstead's word would be enough and Jay knew that when he had a moment to himself, when he had a chance to think and breathe then he would thank his brother. It wouldn't be needed but Jay knows he should; his brother has really stepped up and been there for him. His presence alone, whether he was silent or forcing him to eat and being a nuisance, it was all appreciated.

"Are either one of you sick?" The ER nurse had filled the silence with her question. Both he and Voight shook their heads no and she smiled as she waved them forward, "Great. I'm going to need both of you to wash your hands and arms up to your elbows using the soap and the hard brush provided. The babies are susceptible to germs right now because of their immune system."

Jay didn't need her to explain. He would honestly do anything she asked of him because he knew it was in the best interest of his son. As Jay scrubbed his hands and arms so hard that his flesh started to turn red, he realized just how hard this next moment was about to be. He's never been in a neonatal intensive care unit; he's never seen babies in such a state that they weren't able to be in the care of their parents' arms alone. He knew what he was about to walk in on was going to be hard, but he didn't know how hard it truly was going to be.

When Halstead walked into the unit, he expected silence. He didn't think it would be as busy as it is right now. There are crying babies, conversations being held between parents, doctors and therapists, alarms going off and beeping monitors filling the corridors and people constantly moving around, changing tubes and checking the vitals of all the babies being monitored. Jay finds himself unconsciously following behind the ER nurse; he didn't even know he was doing it but while his brain tried to register all the activity around him, his body moved forward until he sees the team of doctors and nurses surrounding an infant incubator. He knows his son is in there; he doesn't need to be told because he just feels it.

He spots Natalie and she looks up to meet his eyes. And now if there was any doubt about his son being inside the incubator, it disappears when he sees her. She's holding a clipboard and she's looking back and forth between him, the monitor and the clipboard in her hand as she scribbles down his son's vitals. Jay felt Voight nudge him forward, "Come on kid," he hears the older man whisper as the two of them approach the staff. Natalie turns to face him, smiling softly before handing the clipboard over to the primary nurse, -the one assigned to baby Halstead.

"Hi Jay," Natalie moves forward to meet him halfway, "I just want you to know the tubes and the wires makes it look worse than what it is. Your son is strong. And he's fighting and we got him out right on time because even though he gave us quite a scare after delivery, he's now starting to breathe on his own. He still needs to be here but it's looking up for him."

That's comforting. Yet, Jay still feels powerless. He feels like the worse parent alive and he's only been one for about an hour. He felt unfit to be a parent, to be a dad. And when the medical team stepped to the side to grant him his first visual of his son, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

His son was beautiful. Even though he laid there on his back with wires and tubes running through him, he couldn't look more handsome. Jay had only wished Erin got to see him, got to meet him and he hopes that she pulls through enough to where she can. She has to get a chance to see this, to see the human being they've created together, the one that she carried and protected with every ounce of her being.

To see him in the incubator for the first time, not swaddled, picked and prodded with tubes and wires, band-aids that covered the skin where he was given shots and heel pricks and to realize that in this instance, there is absolutely nothing he could do. Anything he wanted to do wouldn't change anything. He was truly powerless. And that thought alone made those emotions from earlier in the morning come back. He couldn't breathe.

Natalie and another doctor rush to his side as Voight drags a chair over. The scraping of the chair against the tiled floor isn't heard over the chatter and the noise in the NICU. It blends in. He doesn't waste a second and he sits down to grip the arms of the chair and not once did his eyes turn away from his kid, not once did he blink or look away. He couldn't afford to because he knows that every second is precious. And that's all reinforced when he hears an alarm go off and many of the people in the room with him, all but Natalie, the primary nurse and the neonatologist rush out. He knows what that sound means. Someone's kid may not make it through the night.

"Halstead, breathe," Voight whispers, dropping to his knees beside the chair. At this point, Will is walking into the room and takes a place in front of his brother, stooping down to be at his line of vision, "Jay, breathe in and out, in and out, in, hold for three seconds, now let it out."

It's working. And Jay appreciates the fact that they stopped him from breaking into a full blown panic attack. He's experienced one earlier and he hated how it made him feel. He couldn't afford to feel one now. Jay grabbed the arms of his chair, and after standing up a bit, he slides the chair as close to the incubator as possible. No one said anything when he leaned his forehead onto the clear case and no one uttered a word as they allowed him the comfort of listening to his son's heart monitor and the monitor recording all of his vitals.

It's Voight that breaks the silence. Jay feels at a loss for words. He's afraid to speak because if he does, he may start freaking out again, he may start crying again.

Hank cleared his throat, "What are all of these tubes for?" It sounds like he was a few words away from crying yet that didn't stop him from talking.

"That's a feeding tube," Natalie pointed out, choosing to be the one to speak out of the team since she personally knew each of them, Jay was basically family, "it goes through the mouth and into his little tummy," her eyes focused down on the bundle of joy, "and the other IVs and tubes are for fluids and to pump medication; he's on an antibiotic to help stimulate his breathing and another medication to help his heart rate. We've scheduled him for periodic blood tests and urine tests to make sure his care stays on track, but it's all looking good, right now."

"…uh," Voight clears his throat again, "Does it…does it hurt?" It seems Halstead still isn't able to talk; it's hard considering his forehead is still pressed against the incubator.

"No, we've taped it in place so it doesn't move around and cause friction," Natalie answered and she didn't appear to be irritated at the amount of questions; she completely understood, "and depending on his length of stay, we do routinely change them to avoid erosions."

Jay shuts his eyes, finding comfort in the solidity against his forehead. He finds even more comfort when Natalie grants him permission to reach his hand into the hole to touch the small, innocent hand of his newborn. The skin of his son's hand felt so raw and so fresh. He ran his finger along his son's palm and when he felt a reaction, a cause and effect sort of involuntary movement. It's a reflex. His son closes his hand, his tiny, fragile and innocent hand around Jay's pointer finger and it elicits a dry laugh and for the first time in what he can remember, he's smiling, "little guy has a strong grip."

"That's good," Natalie smiles as she lays her hand on top of the incubator. The baby squeezes his finger again and Jay smiles so wide and focuses so hard on the small infant that he doesn't see everyone step out to grant him a few moments alone with his little one.

 **1:33pm.**

As Jay sat with his baby, Will and Voight ventured off back to the waiting room, dragging their feet until they stood before the team with the addition of Bunny, Teddy and now Annie. The day has been too draining for the added stress the presence of the latter three brought on by their mere presence. No one was in the mood but at the same time no one said anything.

Hank says nothing. He just walks to the nearest empty seat and flops down into it. His face buries into the opened palm of his hands and he sighs aloud as Dawson and Olinsky move over to offer their boss silent support. He's in no mood to talk or argue. But, that didn't stop Will from speaking, being fueled by the grief he's suppressing in an effort to comfort and be strong for his brother. He's heard of her –the infamous Annie- he's heard of how toxic she is and Will knows that the last thing his brother needs is to see her.

"I would have come to pay my respects yesterday but I didn't want to bring Travis and I knew that yesterday everything was still touch and go," she has the nerve to speak, who she's talking to was anyone's guess, "Travis is in school now so I figured now is the best time as any to see her."

Will takes off his white coat and hands it over to Burgess; he rolls up his sleeves as he walks over, "Hey," he calls out, waving for Annie to get up and walk over, "I'm going to need you to get out of here." And the look on her face says it all. She wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting to be called out, especially by Jay's brother. She looks taken aback and caught off guard and when she looks around the waiting room, expecting someone to defend her, she appears even more surprised when no one says anything.

Annie doesn't argue. She doesn't want to cause problems and make a scene. She loudly grunts, reaching over to snatch her jean jacket up before storming off, not in the direction of the exit but in the direction of the chapel. She doesn't leave but as long as Will doesn't have to see her and as long as his brother doesn't know she's here, she could do whatever. She just needed to stay clear of any areas that his brother would travel. It was common knowledge amongst the team and majority of the staff at Chicago Med that Annie was a suspect in the brutal beating of the eight month old pregnant woman brought into the hospital a day ago with life threatening injuries to both her and her baby.

 **1:49pm.**

Jay sat with his son until baby Halstead was needed for further testing. It was going to take at least an hour and then after that, it was recommended that the baby rest which was code for limited visitors. He sat with him for as long as he could but eventually the medical team had to clear out the area for them to run the appropriate tests.

It was hard to force his body to leave his son's side but he knew it was for the best. He couldn't micromanage the nurses; he would only be taking up space. He needed to step aside and allow everyone to do their jobs.

Jay stepped out of the elevator the second the doors opened. The activity on this floor was the opposite of the activity on the NICU floor. It was still buzzing with people moving about but it seemed calmer. He dragged his feet, stepping aside to move around gurneys and carts in his quest to get back to the waiting room. His fingers feel against the wall, running his hands along the plaster. He walks and walks and he feels an out of body experience take over, as if his body is leading him but his mind has been left behind.

It leads him to the chapel. He was there yesterday and the ambiance feels familiar. It was comforting when he was last in here, he found peace and he understood why his body led him back. He needed that feeling again. He needed that comfort. He pushes open the door, being mindful that other people could be inside praying for their loved ones. Jay didn't want to disturb them; he didn't want his grief to mask theirs. It was no competition. Maybe, if anything, Jay would find comfort in crying, praying and talking to other loved ones. He steps into the doorway and scans the pews until he spots the back of one female to the left and an older couple cuddled together to the right, holding two incense while bowing their heads and praying.

Jay stands in the doorway and watches the two contrasting scenes. One of the scenes, an elderly couple, was praying loudly for grace and mercy for their son and based on the prayer, Jay gathers that their middle aged son was in a car accident and is currently comatose. He wants to lend his support, comfort them in a way that he was comforted. And before he steps towards them, he hears the familiar voice of the second scene, of the woman sitting by herself, with her back to him, "Please let her be okay," the woman cries out in the dimly lit chapel; the only source of light coming from the candles surrounding them, "I'm sorry, Erin, I'm so sorry!" The sound of his wife's name draws him in and he starts to move closer as she continues her prayer, "I didn't think you would get hurt. You _weren't_ supposed to get hurt."

So badly he wants to interrupt. So badly he wants to interrogate her. But, she was offering more answers in her prayer than she did when they questioned her the night before. The elderly couple rises to their feet, hold each other's hands before blowing out the incense and leaving out of the chapel. It was just him and Annie now and he hoped that with her thinking that she was by herself, she would open up more, loudly state her sins and ask mercy for her penance. He slides into the pew furthest from her, taking careful steps to ensure he didn't make a noise. He sits and she wipes her eyes before continuing, "I ask for forgiveness," she's never prayed before; she's never truly believed in a higher power but right now the guilt was too much and she figured it wouldn't hurt to try to reach out and be absolved of her sins, especially of this one, "but I didn't know this would happen. I just got tired," she looks up at the portrait hanging on the wall and amended her statement, "I just got jealous I guess and they weren't supposed to hurt her. She shouldn't be here. Her kid shouldn't be here and I keep thinking about Travis, my son, and I wouldn't know what to do if he was dying," she sobs, shutting her eyes once more and lowering herself to her knees, "Please, please, please just let her be okay. Please let them both make a full recovery. I didn't mean the horrible things I said to her. I didn't mean to slash her tires and I wouldn't have done that if I'd known what they'd do! I wouldn't have, I wouldn't have," she's growing frantic and when she starts to sob, Jay realizes that she's done. She has nothing left to say. So, he rises to his feet, slides out of the pew and moves down the aisle.

He's neither careful nor mindful of his footsteps; he doesn't care if she hears him. And she does, her eyes immediately open and she turns her head around to watch him move in.

"You never meant for any of this to happen," he whispers, struggling to keep his voice low.

She slowly stands to her feet, "…Jay."

"What happened?"

She shakes her head in an effort to clear her thoughts, "…Jay, you have to understand-"

"There's nothing to understand," he pleads with his eyes, "you have to tell me what happened!"

"It's all a misunderstanding, Jay, just-"

"What the fuck happened to my wife?!" He grabs her upper arms and yanks her towards him. It's something he never thought he would have done but to hear a confession and to know she has answers but appears unwilling to provide them clouded his rational mind, "What did you do to her? Who was there?" He's shaking her as he shouts, "I swear Annie!"

Footsteps rush into the chapel and he feels Annie torn from his hands. He looks around spotting Atwater and Ruzek holding him back as Burgess has Annie in her grip. Jay shoves his friends away in an effort to move back in, "Halstead, stop!" He hears Voight shout from the doorway. It isn't long for his boss to be at his side, gripping his shoulder and turning him around to face him.

"I heard her sarg, she knows who hurt Erin," Jay pleads; he just needs a moment alone to question her, to interrogate her without the prying eyes of his coworkers or superior, "She slashed Erin's tires. She was out there with whoever hurt her! She knows! She's one of the reasons that Erin is in here, she's responsible for my baby being in the NICU!"

"Annie," Ruzek whispered, taking a calmer approach, "what happened?"

Quickly she shakes her head, refusing to speak. She's said enough. She couldn't afford to say more. She feels her arms being pulled behind her back and the metal of Burgess's handcuffs snap around her wrists, "…well then Annie, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent," the Miranda rights are finished and read with more passion than they've ever been read before and as Kim starts to push her out of the chapel, Annie stops to look over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of her friend's husband, "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry; Jay, but I didn't hurt her."

"You're speaking of technicalities. You mean to say, technically you didn't hurt her, but you sure didn't help matters. You're just as guilty," Jay retorted, squeezing through Atwater, Voight and Ruzek in order to approach her, "Regardless of what you think or what you say, you're just as responsible as everyone else involved. Slashing her tires may not have physically hurt her but it distracted her, it made her get out the car, it prevented her from getting away. It prevented her from saving herself. And you don't even have the guts or the heart to tell us who beat and dumped her body. You're a coward, Annie, always were and always will be."

Jay took a step back, hinting that Burgess can take her away. Kim doesn't want to leave though; she looks to Ruzek and Atwater, requesting with her eyes for them to take her so she can stay. It isn't long until they agree, moving in to grab one of her arms to begin leading her away.

"…wait," Annie shouts, struggling to yank her arms out of their hold; she turns around to see Jay and while everyone in the room thinks that she's about to confess, Jay knows better, "I just want to say that I'm just trying to protect my son." What did Travis have to do with anything?

"If you think Charlie will hurt him if you confess, then you need to tell us," Atwater speaks up.

"No, no," she shakes her head; the handcuffs are uncomfortable, "he would never hurt him."

"…then please tell us, for Erin and for my son, who was there that day?"

And she wants to talk, all of them could tell, but against her better judgment she keeps her mouth shut. She says nothing. She only bows her head and allows the detectives to take her out. Jay shouts at the top of his lungs when they're long gone and kicks the side of the pew, a sharp pain shooting up his foot that doesn't seem to bother him too much; he prefers that type of pain than the pain he's been living with the last 24 hours.

 **2:14pm.**

Halstead needs some peace of mind. Too much had happened in the last 24 hours and it feels like his brain cannot keep up. He feels trapped. He feels stuck. He needs to see his wife. And just as he gets to her room, nodding towards the guards seated outside his wife's hospital room, the door swings and he sees Mouse, holding up the cellphone of Lonnie Rodiger. Jay follows him back into the room and shuts the door behind him, "What's wrong?" Immediately his eyes goes to the bed and he finds his wife still sleeping, chest rising and falling and the machine providing a comforting beep every few seconds to let him know that she's okay.

"I've searched through his phone," he plugs the device back into his laptop and his fingers start to fly over the keys as he hacks back into the software, "I've found pictures of about ten different kids: walking, eating and playing. If you name it, he's got it," Mouse pulls up all of the deleted files to show him, "but what really caught my attention were the last seventeen pictures; they're all of Erin leaving the district and they're all timestamped of the last seven days. He's been following her, taking pictures of her and her route to and from work."

Jay stares at the pictures. He watches as each one is opened up on the screen. Based on her outfits, he remembered the day it must have been taken. Based on the timestamp in the corner of the photo, it seals the date that it was taken. He shuts his eyes when he gets to the picture that he knows was taken yesterday. He's in a few of them; he was walking her to the car, sending her home because he thought that was the best place for her. Oh, how he was wrong? Jay glances to his wife, scanning his eyes from her face to her stomach. It's a little flatter, not by much, but it's obvious that she had just given birth. It's going to take some time for her stomach to go down all the way but it appears that right now, they have all the time in the world.

"Can you go tell Voight what you found?" He wants some time alone with her. She had just given birth and he wanted to tell her all about the joy that is their son, -their nameless son.

Mouse doesn't argue; he simply stands up and heads towards the door, balancing his laptop in his arm as the phone remains plugged into it. The door shuts behind him. And Jay sits in the seat Mouse had just vacated.

He takes a seat and pulls the chair as close to the bed as possible. His hand reaches out and covers hers and a small smile breaks out, "Babe, you won't believe it," he squeezes her hand in excitement before bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "I saw our little guy and he's so strong and he's fighting. He's a fighter like you and I wish you could have seen him. He squeezed my finger," he kisses her hands again, running his lips along her skin, "and Nat says that he's breathing on his own which is really good. I shouldn't get my hopes up too high but Er, I can't help it!" Between them slowly weaning her off the sedative that's put her to sleep and his baby boy breathing on his own, things were starting to look up, things were looking good.

Jay stands up and leans forward to press his lips against the corner of her mouth; he holds them there and inhales the scent of her that's being masked by the smell of the hospital room, "Er, he's beautiful," he pulls back and looks down at his wife, "he looks so handsome and I haven't gotten a chance to hold him but I don't think I want to, not until you get your chance. You should be a part of all of this. You should be here," and now he's starting to work himself up, "I just want you to be here because we need you. He doesn't have his mother. He doesn't have a name." He's starting to pace in front of her bed, back and forth as he runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, "I need you so much baby," that happy moment completely vanishes and the feelings he's felt since he knew she was attacked starts to come back, "I can't do this without you. I'm spiraling right now and I'm trying to stay busy because I know if I'm here or at the district then I'm not at the bar, I'm not drinking. I'm not making mistakes."

He takes a deep breath because he knows that's been at the back of his mind. He needs a drink and he knows from previous conversation with Erin, that the second you need a drink and allow yourself to get lost in the comfort of strong liquor then the restraint that holds you back from doing it again the next day diminishes. He wants a drink really bad but he doesn't want it to be his answer, he doesn't want it for the sole purpose of it warming his body and helping him take his mind off of his wife and child. He needs it though.

Jay kisses her hand again and whispers into her opened palm, "I want to stay here with you. I want to be by your side until you wake up. I want to divide my time between you and our baby, but," he takes a pause to inhale a sharp breath and releasing it moments later, "but I need to get back to the district. I need to question Annie. I need to be there. Maybe I can get through to her, parent to parent and maybe I can get back here to be by your side? I want to give you all of me but I've been so distracted with trying to find evidence on who hurt you. I have to find out who did this to you," he runs a finger along one of her large bruises, "I know if you were up you probably wouldn't want me to leave our son's side, but I need to do this. I promise I'll be back to check in. I promise I'll call for updates. I promise you that I'll find out who did this."

 **2:37pm.**

Jay left Mouse at his wife's bedside and he left his brother at the bedside of his son. Knowing that two people he trusted were at the side of the two people he loved the most comforted him. It made leaving the hospital a tad bit easier. After requesting updates through text message and phone calls from both Will and Mouse, he climbed into the passenger seat of Voight's truck.

"I sent Olinsky and Dawson to pick up Lonnie. I think we have enough to arrest him."

Hopefully Lonnie would be more forthcoming than Annie with information. He'd spent years in prison and after all of this, after his part in Erin's condition and violating his parole, he'd be spending the rest of his life in prison. And there's nothing worse than going to prison not only for a former sex charge, but now for a violent crime against a woman and a baby. The odds were built against him and hopefully they were able to use that to get a detailed account of what happened and who all were involved.

"I feel like every time we take one step forward, we're pushed several steps back," Jay sits back and looks out the window as they take the familiar drive from the hospital to the precinct, "How many people do you think are responsible?"

"…I don't know," Voight admits and Jay knows his boss enough to know just how hard that was for him to say, "and I hate that I don't know. It could be anywhere from two to four, but if Annie and Lonnie are involved then Charlie definitely is; he's the common denominator. I don't even know if they know each other, but if they do then it's because of Charlie."

"And what about Landon and Teddy?"

Voight shrugs, "…those are other questions that we need to get answered. We need to find a link between them all. We know Lonnie and Charlie were cellmates at one point. We know Charlie and Annie are separated and share a kid. Annie and Charlie know Erin from their childhood and so does Landon, maybe that's how he knows the two of them, but Teddy…I'm not sure where he fits into all of this. And what motive would Teddy, Landon and Lonnie have to hurt Erin?"

 **3:02pm.**

They've been in the interrogation room more times in the last two days than they've been in it in a week. From Charlie, to Lonnie, to Landon and now to Annie, it felt like a repetitive cycle of the same questions being asked and answered. Annie sits anxiously, biting down upon her bottom lip so hard that she's drawing blood. The iron, metallic taste of it is swallowed in a large gulp the second she sees Voight and Halstead enter the room.

She had hoped any other detective would be the one to question her. She would have preferred it. Annie sat up straight, back perched against the back of the metal chair, "Can we get this over with please?" She started to fiddle with the fabric of her blouse, "I have a kid I need to pick up."

"I hope you have someone willing to watch him because you're not going anywhere any time soon," Voight says as he takes a seat across from her, "you're going to be charged with some pretty heavy stuff, Annie. It's enough charges to put you away for the rest of your life. This is conspiracy, attempted murder, two counts and two separate charges against a cop and a baby. Do you realize how heavy that is? How much weight that will carry in a courtroom when it comes to sentencing? You were at Chicago Med today."

"Yeah…visiting a friend," she's trying to avoid eye contact. She couldn't afford to break down again; it got her nowhere last time and if it were to happen again, it would only make more problems for her.

"I wouldn't really call her that." Voight remarks and he notices that Jay hasn't said a word. He hasn't sat down either. He's behind him, pacing back and forth.

Annie finally lifts her gaze and makes eye contact, "She's my friend."

"Friends don't hurt their friends. Friends don't do what you did to their friends."

"I didn't hurt her!"

"…but you didn't help her either!" Jay screams at the top of his lungs as he came to an abrupt stop and turned to face her, "You may not have physically put your hands on her but you were there and you watched her get hurt! How could you just sit back and watch it happen?"

"I didn't watch," she whispered; her voice takes a completely different tone than it did with Voight. If she were being honest, she would admit that Jay scared her more than Hank did.

"You didn't watch," Jay repeats; the tone of his voice lowers as his hands start to clench the end of the table, "you didn't watch."

"Of course not! Who could possibly watch that?! I couldn't do that!" Annie's crying.

…then what did you do, Annie?"

"I…I'm getting confused." She was getting overwhelmed. She was starting to cry again.

"You're getting confused," Jay chuckled darkly, shaking his head in mock pity, "Imagine how confused Erin was when she saw her so called friend participating in her assault!"

"She didn't see me," Annie cried out. And she should really stop talking, especially without a lawyer present. But, she didn't request for one. Stupid mistake.

Jay's hands tighten their hold around the edge of the table. His knuckles turning a pale shade of white as he starts to push it towards her, "Annie, we just need the names of all who were involved. That's all," the table bumps against her chest and for a second, he stops pushing it.

"I can't give you that. I'm sorry." And she actually did look apologetic. It didn't mean anything to them. Jay starts pushing the table again and she felt the metal start to push against her with a bit more pressure, "How do you know Lonnie?"

"Lonnie," Annie whispered and the stoic look on her face breaks; she's confused, "What does he have to do with any- oh, he's a suspect."

Maybe he wasn't there that day? He was still a suspect. Just because Annie was confused about his involvement, didn't mean he wasn't involved.

"…and what about Teddy? And Landon? How do you know them?" He could tell by the look on her face what she was about to say.

"I want a lawyer." And now, she finally lawyered up. They couldn't question her anymore without her counsel present because if they were to gather anymore information from her after this point, then it would all be moot and it couldn't be used in trial.

Halstead snatches the table away, moving it backwards until it reaches Voight. His boss stretches his hands out to stop it as Jay walks around it. He reaches her. And Hank truly thinks Jay is going to hit her; his fists are clenched and his face is twisted into a scowl. He raises one hand and the team comes bursting into the room just as Jay opens that hand and slaps it against the wall beside her head. She shuts her eyes and jumps and by the time she opens them again, he's storming out of the room, shouting one last declaration, "Fuck you, Annie!"

 **3:28pm.**

Mouse had been so focused, typing into his work issued laptop with his face so close to the screen that he'll need an eye exam by the time the investigation was over. But, he didn't care. If it meant that he could find some type of significant link, clue or motive to pinpoint the team to the culprits then he would happily wear glasses for the rest of his life. He had been too consumed in his work, plugging in key information into national databases, running multiple background checks at the same time and even going so far as to hack into the lab reports to see if fingerprints were found and filed into the system. He needed to run them against the long list of suspects. He had been pressured to find something and so focused on every little word or detail in the reports that he didn't hear the door open; he didn't hear the conversation or the approaching footsteps. He didn't even bother to look up until he heard the wheels on Erin's hospital bed unlock.

"What's happening?" Mouse demanded, slapping his laptop shut as he jumps to his feet. He was told to keep a careful eye on Erin, to watch her and update Jay on every minor or major change.

There were dark bags developing beneath his eyes. His pupils were enlarged and the white around them were a light shade of red. He was exhausted. He was hungry. And he was overwhelmed by the pressure and time restraints of it all. Between investigating and sending updates on Erin's status, he didn't have enough time to eat or take a quick nap, and not to mention use the restroom. He had been holding his bladder for so long that he didn't feel the need to have to go anymore. It must have gone back up. If that was possible…

"We're just taking her to run some more tests," one of the nurses explained, "Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Manning want to keep an eye out to make sure she's healing properly. They need to make sure her C-section cut is clean and properly stapled and bandaged and Dr. Rhodes wants to look at her stats and examine each laceration. It helps to avoid the risk of infection. He also wants to run a chest x-ray; he needs to look at those ribs and make sure they're healing correctly. To put it simply, he's going to do an exam, a full work-up and evaluation of her to make sure everything is healing as it should and also whether or not to keep her sedated and medically induced."

"Oh," he flops back down in his seat, "oh okay." His mind had gone to worst case scenario and the relief at not receiving bad news and therefore having to communicate said bad news to his closest friend was overwhelming and had his heart struggling to calm down.

"Why don't you go get some food? Maybe some coffee? It'll take at least an hour."

Mouse didn't like the idea of leaving. He was given strict instructions to stay by her side and if something were to happen or if she were to return to an empty room, he didn't want to think of the consequences that would be at his feet the second Jay found out. It was the least he could do for his friend. He stretched his hand out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Erin's ear as he considered the nurse's words, "I'll get food from the cafeteria and bring it straight back here," he doesn't know if that's allowed but he doesn't care, "and I'll finish working." He stepped back and watched as the team of nurses wheeled her out of the room once more.

After sending Jay and Voight a quick message, detailing the recent update on Erin's status, he made a stop at the bathroom and a stop outside to take a few breaths of fresh air before heading downstairs to the cafeteria to buy a large coffee and a deli sandwich.

 **3:44pm.**

Jay stands in the restroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. For the fourth time, he splashes cold water into his face to give him a jumpstart. His lack of sleep was starting to take a toll on his body but he had no desire of slowing down, of taking a break to get at least an hour of shut eye. He splashed more water onto his face before pressing the palms of his hands on the sink, leaning forward to look at his face closely. His eyes are watered. Since this has happened, they've always been watered; it's like that's their permanent state now. No matter how many times he wipes his eyes, they're always filled with tears that desperately want to fall.

He couldn't hold them in anymore because the tears weren't just there out of sadness and grief; they were present because of guilt, because of shame and fear and terror. He should be at the hospital, dividing his time between his wife and his son, but he was here, at work, struggling to lose himself in a case that he will solve no matter what it takes. He feels the sobs start to rake his body, shaking his shoulders until his knees tremble until he's on the floor, biting into his closed fist in an effort to muffle his cries. He felt hope slowly start to drain from his body with every minute that went by. He was losing hope, hope that they will arrest those responsible, hope that Erin will wake up and hope that his baby boy will make a full recovery. He didn't want to lose it, but he was human and it was only so much one man can take.

The more he sobbed, the harder it became to breathe. He didn't have the time for another panic attack. He had a case to solve. He had a wife and a son depending on him; he had to be strong for them. He sucks up the remainder of his tears, suppressing the rest of his sobs as he rises from the ground to his feet, "Get it together, Halstead," he mutters to himself; it's a demand. It's one that he doesn't question because no matter how much pain he's going through, his wife and son are going through worse.

He splashes more water onto his face and then grabs a paper towel to dry it, using extra effort to wipe his eyes until they were dry. It still looked like he was crying but there was only so much he could do about it. He bows his head and tucks his hands into his front pockets before walking out of the restroom, "Halstead," he hears his name being called and he comes to an abrupt stop.

Platt approaches and sets her hand upon his shoulder; it's the nicest she's ever treated him. It's only taken his wife being medically induced into a coma and his son to be born prematurely for it to happen, but miracles and all that. He didn't feel like thinking of the saying. It took too much energy and he needed to save that for what really matters. He slowly turns around to face her, "I really need to get back upstairs," he clears his throat and she notices that he's been crying.

"…are there any updates on Lindsay?" She asks softly, squeezing his shoulder in comfort.

Jay scratches the back of his neck, eyes focusing on a scuff mark on the floor as he answered, "It's just the same old stuff but um," he sniffs; he needs comforting, that much is obvious, "I did get a text from Mouse. The doctors are taking her back for more tests…it seems that's all they're doing now, either surgery or tests. I mean," for the first time he looks up to meet Platt's eyes, "I think she's had enough. It's only so much one person can take!"

"How much can you take?"

He shakes his head, "I'm fine. I'm not the one in the hospital."

"…that doesn't mean you're not hurting or affected by this. That's your wife, Halstead, and your son and they're both badly hurt. I would be more surprised if you weren't hurting." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, gently rubbing his arm. And Jay finds some semblance of comfort in the hug; it's enough comfort to get him to reciprocate, raising his arm and wrapping it around her. His shoulders manage to loosen up for just a few seconds until his eyes are drawn towards Teddy who is approaching him at such a casual and relaxed pace.

 **4:16pm.**

Teddy sits in the interrogation room. And there are too many detectives in Intelligence that want to interview him. Jay and Voight are immediately out of the running because of their connection to him; he's Erin's brother and therefore Teddy is Jay's brother-in-law. Voight has a whole different history with the kid that'll take too much effort to describe. Everyone seemed to want a go at him because of all the suspects, if he were truly involved, that would hurt the most. That's his sister; they share the same blood. How could someone do that to family? How could someone intentionally hurt their own loved one?

Jay and Voight watched through the glass as Olinsky and Burgess were the chosen ones to interrogate him. Jay just watched his body language, taking him in and observing him under scrutinizing eyes. Burgess sat down against the edge of the table, "You know what's going on and why you're here so there's no point in beating around the bush."

"What made you walk into the district?" Olinsky had questioned.

"To clear my name," he asserts, crossing his arms over his chest, "it's obvious based on the little scene in the waiting room that you think I had something to do with this. I didn't."

"…and you think we're going to take your word for it?"

Teddy looks up to meet Kim's eyes, "I didn't hurt my sister. I don't even have a reason to hurt her. What motive would I have?"

"That's what we don't understand," Olinsky retorts, pulling the chair out to sit down across from him, "that's what we can't wrap our heads around. Why would you want to see your sister hurt? After all she's done for you, she went to New York to find you, she's helped you as much as she could and you do something like this."

"She never helped me," he scoffed.

"I hear a lot of anger in your voice," Kim asserted, tilting her head and pouting her lips to express mock sympathy, "Why are you so angry when we talk about your sister?"

"…because you're accusing me of beating her!"

Teddy sat back and leaned his head against the wall. Kim waited. So did Olinsky. It was silent in the interrogation room, so quiet that Halstead had half a mind to go in there and do the questioning himself. Teddy cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight, "I can't say much but I just need it to be clear that I didn't do this. I didn't hurt her."

"You say you didn't hurt her. Annie says she didn't hurt her. How did she get hurt?"

"Annie," Teddy repeated her name, uttering it low but saying it loud enough for them to hear, "Is she here? Have you spoken to her? What did she say?" He's eager for information.

"She said that you were there," Olinsky lied, slowly sliding his hat off the top of his head, "She said that you were one of them that beat her," he decided to add more detail for emphasis, "She said that after she slashed the tires, you got out of the car and threw her to the ground." He purposely mentioned Annie's role in the plot to make it more believable; he stuck as close to the truth, as close to what she's actually said, in order to get something out of Teddy, "she said that you took one foot and dragged her when y'all dumped her body."

"She's lying," Teddy shouted; eyes wide as he jumps to his feet, "I'm not going down for this when I didn't do anything to her! I stayed in the car! I didn't touch her _once_! If she finds the fucking strength to wake her ass up then she'll probably be able to tell you that I wasn't even there! She didn't see me because I wanted no part in it!" He went on a rant. He said more than he intended. When he walked into the precinct, he felt like he was in control; he came here on his term and in the car he had prepped himself on what to say.

This was not a part of the prepping. This was not how things were supposed to go down. He closed his eyes when he realized he screwed up. Two of the people involved had screwed themselves up by talking in front of detectives. The team doubted that the other members of the crime were going to get caught that easily. Olinsky shook his head and rose to his feet, "Who else was there? If you didn't touch her and Annie didn't touch her, who did?"

Teddy cleared his throat but remained silent.

Kim spoke up next, "How do you know Charlie?"

"I don't know him," and by the looks on the detectives' faces, he knew they knew that to be a lie, "…at least, I don't know him that well. That's all I'm saying."

"What does he have on all of you? Why are you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid. There's such a thing called loyalty; some have it, some don't. Charlie has it and Erin unfortunately doesn't. It's probably why that happened to her. Now if we're done, I would like to get out of here. I'm supposed to be meeting my mother for an early dinner." He didn't wait to be dismissed. He rose to his feet and made his way towards the door and it was when he opened it to find Halstead standing on the other side, he felt the need to back away.

Halstead was not in the mood. After everything he's dealing with, the sleepless night, the lack of appetite and the suppression of his emotions, he was not ready to deal with Teddy's antics and his own betrayal to his sister. He blocked the door, refusing to allow the guy to take one step past him, "You talk of loyalty like you have it? What happened to loyalty to your sister? You expect me to believe that you sat in the car while your sister was getting beat up? That you ignored the sounds of her crying," he had to pause because just the thought of his wife sobbing in pain and no one doing anything about it made him tense up, "that you ignored the screaming and the sounds of her getting beat to just sit in the car beside Annie? You can't expect anyone to believe that. I know you're lying. We know you were involved and if I had any doubt before, it's gone now. We know you hurt her along with Charlie and Landon and it's only a matter of time before we arrest you for it."

"Last I checked, you can't arrest a bystander for not stopping a crime. To witness a crime isn't illegal, only participating in it is. I didn't. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Jay shoved him back and Teddy stumbled, "You're lying to me!"

"Prove it," Teddy spat. The guy in the hospital that pleaded his innocence was no longer present. Instead it was someone different, someone much more in control because he wasn't caught off guard. A moment passes and Teddy smugly smirks as he exits the room. One for him, Teddy thinks to himself as he leaves the district, and zero for the detectives.

Voight doesn't waste a second trying to control his emotions. At the top of his lungs, his gruff voice shouts to no one in particular, "I NEED A WARRANT TO SEARCH ALL OF THEIR GODDAMN HOMES," every person in his vicinity scrambles away, all drawing up paperwork, getting in contact with lawyers and judges to see who will grant them multiple search warrants.

 **4:57pm.**

The warrant doesn't happen right away. It's not as simple as snapping your fingers to poof a judge in front of them, plead their case and prove probably cause to get a signature on a legal document granting them permission to search the homes of Annie, Teddy, Charlie, Lonnie and Landon. Olinsky and Atwater were leading the requests for search warrants while the rest of them stayed at the district, twiddling their thumbs and staring at the whiteboard to see if any other connections could be made.

It was hard for Jay to see the picture of Erin taped onto the board.

It's the DMV photo of her; the one that's on her license. She's not smiling. She looks frustrated and he remembers when she had to get her license renewed and the motor vehicles worker was giving her a hard time. He wants to replace that photo with a better one, with one that shows the true essence of Erin. The DMV photo doesn't cut it.

But, at the same time, this wasn't a happy occasion. It was not the time to be smiling, so maybe, the photo does fit the mood.

Jay hears something crash and when he looks up he sees Voight pacing in his office as Burgess goes inside with a broom and a dustpan to sweep up the mess he's made. Halstead stands to offer his help but before he's able to reach the office, he hears his name being called, "Detective Halstead," he comes to a stop and turns around to face the two approaching detectives, "we heard your team has been working on our case. I thought it was made clear that you all shouldn't be working it," he had the nerve to wait for an answer or an excuse, either of which wouldn't be provided to satisfy his curiosity.

"We've made a few cracks in it, more than you can say," Voight speaks up as he walks out of his office, leaving Burgess to clean up the mess he made when he angrily threw a glass to the ground; he apologized and thanked her as he left the office, "We heard you don't even have a suspect; we also heard that you hit a dead end. What are you doing here anyway besides wasting our time?"

"We're not here to argue or step on any toes," Detective Upton reassures, holding up both of her hands in defeat, "because at the end of the day we're all on the same page and we all want the same thing. We want justice for your detective."

Jay shoves his hands into his jeans pocket, "If you're not here to stop us from investigating, why are you here then?"

"It's obvious you all were working the case and since you know Detective Lindsay," Jay almost interrupted to correct him on her name but Voight gave him a look that demanded silence so he could hear Rixton out, "you know her on a more personal and professional note than we do, so that gave you a clear place to start when investigating. We're here to work with you, to offer our help and services. More power in numbers, you know?" Jay does know and at hearing that he relaxes; the tension suddenly leaves his shoulders.

Although the detectives had offered their assistance and their reassurance that they weren't here to take over the case or to remind them that it goes against protocol for the Intelligence unit to be even working the case in the first place, it didn't mean that the team welcomed them with opened arms because when an outside team comes in it's always a battle over superiority. Who is in charge? Who will take the lead? Voight is leading the investigation behind the scenes but in front of the cameras, Detective Rixton will lead it in order to make sure that there are no technicalities in the chain of command and the investigation itself that a defense attorney could use to get the case thrown out. A conflict of interest would raise enough speculation and defense than any competent attorney would drag it out to claim shady dealings behind the scenes considering Erin is their detective and the people responsible are from her past, some of which Voight knows.

This could work; Jay tells himself over and over again, this could actually work. He bites down on his bottom lip and walks over to Erin's desk, "you guys could take my desk if you need a place to work," he says because he would be damned if they sat at her seat. He feels the nerve to guard it, to protect it like he should have protected her. As the team catches them all up to speed, he organizes her desk drawers and he knows she's going to hate it –kind of- but it's nervous energy and it needs to be used productively, "Halstead," he looks up from his task of restocking staples in her stapler to find Upton approaching; he didn't feel like talking, "sorry to disturb you, your team had just finished getting us up to speed on everything," she leans against the edge of his wife's desk and that bothers him way more than it should, "I just wanted to give you an apology for yesterday and the way me and my partner questioned you. We didn't intend to come across as if we were accusing you of anything," she takes a pause and he really wants her to get up but he doesn't want to be rude about it and practically push her away from the desk. He senses that she's waiting on a response from him.

"…no hard feelings," and that was the actual truth because he's been so busy that he honestly forgot all about it. At least until she brought it back up…

"I still feel a little bad."

He tries to hold in his frustration with her sitting against Erin's desk but it's distracting and he can't even make an understanding of what she's saying because she's still sitting there. She's talking, her mouth is moving but his eyes stare at where she's sitting.

"Do you mind?" He asked; his voice clipped, nodding towards her placement against the edge of the desk. She gets the hint and whispers an apology before quickly sliding off.

"I was thinking," Detective Upton crossed her arms over her chest and rocked back and forth on her feet, "that I know you're going through a lot right now and I mean it when I say I felt bad and I really want to make it up to you, how about after shift, you and me go out for drinks, my treat, you deserve a beer or two. I know a great place and-"

"I'm married and my wife is in the hospital," he reminds even though it's clear from her statement that she was well aware of it, "and you know that so why the fuck would you think that was okay to ask?" It pisses him off though because in what world would it even make it seem like it's okay for him to go out for drinks with her while his wife and kid are in the hospital.

Detective Upton squints and takes a small step back, seemingly getting the hint before turning on her heel and walking away. He couldn't be here any longer. What was he thinking? He needed to go back to the hospital. He couldn't divide his time between working and being at his wife and son's side; he felt guilty no matter where he was at and what he was doing. If he was here working, he felt like the worst husband and father because he wasn't by their side? And if he was at the hospital, he still felt like the worst husband and father because he wasn't seeking justice on their behalf? It was a lose-lose, and Detective Upton had only managed to make him feel worse about it because if he gave her the impression that it would be okay for the two of them to go out for drinks alone, then he obviously wasn't doing something right.

 **5:43pm.**

Mouse is relieved when Erin is wheeled back into the room. It had taken over an hour, over two actually, for him to see her again and hear any word or update about her. It was stressful because Jay and Voight kept texting and calling him, requesting for updates that he didn't have.

And when he saw her, he felt a smile stretch across his face at the sight of her. The tubes in her mouth and nose were removed and even though it was a small step in her recovery, it just made him feel like they were another step closer to having her back.

He doesn't bother grabbing one of the chairs aligned against the wall because he's focused on how the nurses set her bed back in place against the wall, locking the wheels, re-hooking wires and checking the monitors to ensure they were on and resuming their jobs. He watched as Dr. Rhodes updated her medical chart just as Natalie, Will and another one of Erin's doctors entered the room, "We shouldn't have to take her for any more tests today. I think after everything her body has been through she deserves a break more than anyone. Tomorrow morning though is another story and we'll have to resume follow-up exams and testing then."

More tests? Mouse sighed once he heard that. She needed a break; he agreed with them on that. It's the least she deserved after being physically assaulted, medically induced, forced to miss the delivery of her son, being unable to even hold her son or know she even has a son. She's missed so much that she'll never get back and she's been through so much that she'll never forget.

"What tests did you run? And how were her results? How is she doing now?"

And once the doctors were gearing up to list the many updates on Erin's case, Will raised his hand to pause them, "Just one second," he says, dialing Jay's number, "I'm calling my brother so he can hear this and ask whatever questions he needs to ask." The call is on speaker and after the first ring, his brother answers.

"How is she? What's her status?" He doesn't even bother with a greeting or idle chitchat. He just wants to know how his wife is doing and when Will takes too long to answer, he starts to panic, "Is she okay? Is she _alive_? I'm on my way back but can you tell me something? Please."

"Jay, it's Dr. Rhodes," her lead surgeon takes the phone from his coworker, "your brother had called so we can all update you at once. If you would grab Voight and go into a quiet room so you can hear us clearly, then that'll be great. We have a lot of updates and I know you'll have plenty of questions. But, to reassure you, Erin is strong and she's coming along great."

"…so is your son," Natalie adds.

 **6:17pm.**

When Jay said he was going back to the hospital, he wasn't bluffing or lying. Now that Detective Rixton and Upton had joined and brought their unit into the investigation, he felt comfortable enough to leave it in all of their hands. With Voight being in charge, he was sure that it was only a matter of time before the people responsible are caught.

He's at his son's side. His hands have been pre-washed and scrubbed so hard that his fingers were red. Jay refused to risk the chance of bringing outside germs in to harm his kid or anyone else's kid that was currently housed in the NICU. He takes the position he took earlier, extending his hand through the incubator to brush his finger against the back of his son's soft hand, "You are so handsome," he whispered. And even though there were multiple nurses in the room with him, he liked to picture himself alone, just him and his son, -father/son bonding.

This time tiny fingers curl around his pinky. And his son has such a tight grasp. It's impressive.

Jay gets lost in the smile that's stretching across his lips. It felt foreign and he actually had to trace the smile with his empty hand to believe that it was actually there.

"You help me smile in my darkest days," he admits to his son who was only a few hours old. His baby was less than a day old and already had such pull on his father, such weight in his dad's life that Jay couldn't even remember or understand life before his baby existed.

"I can't wait until your mommy can see what I see," he leans forward and carefully presses his forehead against the incubator to get a closer look, "you are perfect in every way that counts."

The nurses in the room hear, but they learn to ignore. This is not their first time trying to stay quiet and give the family a semblance of privacy.

"You came earlier than expected and you weigh a little less than what's safe, but you got a great team that surrounds you," he whisper-cries to his son, "but you're going to be alright. I won't let anyone else hurt you, I promise I won't."

Jay wants to kiss his son; he wants to pepper as many kisses as possible around his baby's head but he knows that's impossible. The incubator prevents that. His touch is limited, only allowing him to connect his hand to the small hand of his baby. It'll have to do for the time being; it was better than no contact at all.

"You haven't seen your mommy and your mommy hasn't seen you and I can only imagine how beautiful that moment will be when you both open those eyes and look into each other's souls."

In the distance, Jay hears the beeping of machines speed up. He knows there's a baby in danger and the nurses in the room with him all rush out. He hears parents sobbing and shouting for someone to do something, to do anything to save their baby and he hears those same parents reassure their baby who is being wheeled away to emergency surgery that everything is going to be alright, that mommy and daddy will be waiting for him and all he has to do is stay strong. He takes a glance out of the small room to see the baby who couldn't have been older than a month and when he looks up to see the faces of the parents, his heart drops somewhere to the pit of his stomach. He sees himself, he sees Erin and for some reason he sees that baby being his kid.

One second the NICU is quiet –or at least as quiet as it can be with hospital staff talking and machines beeping- but it was quiet for the most part because every baby was stable until now. He goes back to his son's side, "Sorry," he couldn't help but to apologize for even stepping away in the first place; he inserts his hand back through the hole and allows his son's tiny fingers to wrap around his pinky once more. He knows soon enough that he'll have to leave, visiting hours for every kid is different and for his son, since he's so young and so weak, it's for a shorter duration.

"I may have to go soon but you'll have Natalie looking over you and even your Uncle Will," he talks to his son as if he could fully understand him, "you have to rest up and get nice and healthy so your mama and I can take you home. We went all out in the nursery but I have a feeling that you'll be sleeping in our room, at least for the first year," it was meant as a joke but it felt like the truth, "I think once you're in my arms, I'm not going to want to let you go."

For a moment, Jay sits with his son in silence, staring at his small form as his eyes rake over his every feature. He wants to see his baby's eyes but he knew right now it wouldn't be possible. He takes in his nose, his mouth and his ears. Those features were all him. His son may possibly be his spitting image, his twin but only time would truly tell as he grows into those features.

"I'm going to think of the perfect name for you and then run it pass your mama when she wakes up," he says and he hears someone enter the room but he doesn't turn around to see who it is; he assumes it's one of the nurses that had left out earlier.

"…uh Jay," he hears his brother's whispered voice approach him from behind, "I don't mean to disturb you but Mouse was called back to the district. They needed him there."

"I need him here," Jay responds without pulling his eyes away from his son, "I can't leave either of them alone. I need him here at the hospital."

"I can sit with him if you want to sit with your wife," Will takes off his white doctor jacket and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair, "his visiting hours are ending soon and they're less likely to kick me out considering I work here. I can sit with him until my shift is over."

Jay rises to his feet and takes one last look at his son before turning away to move towards his brother. He hugs him, holding him tightly in his arms with a grip that symbolizes just how much he loves him; he's been his rock through all of this and Jay wouldn't know what he would do without him. He steps back, sniffs and clears his throat, "If there are any changes-"

"I'll call you," Will reassures.

"He likes it when you let him hold your finger," Jay says, smiling abashedly because he figures that's most or all babies, but he still couldn't help it, it makes him feel like a proud dad or a dad that knows something about his kid, "but make sure you wash your hands first," and Will quirks a brow at that because he's a doctor and he knows this and he knows that Jay is stalling, "sorry, I can't really help it," he backs away and cast one last look down towards his sleeping infant, "I love you little man." He pats the top of the incubator before turning to walk out of the room.

 **6:50pm.**

To go back and forth from the NICU to the ICU alone would be taxing on anybody but to throw in sporadic visits to the district to assist in investigating the reason why he has to go to the NICU and ICU in the first place was downright enervating. He didn't know how he was functioning, but he knew why he had to, it was all for his wife and his yet to be named son.

He realizes that he's been inside Chicago Med one too many times because no one questions his presence in the NICU or in the ICU. And the doctors, nurses and hospital staff that he passes all smile and nod their heads in acknowledgement. It's the kind of recognition one receives when they're a familiar face, when they're used to seeing you and it's the reason why Jay wishes they were all strangers. He didn't want to be known for this and he definitely didn't want to be pitied.

Erin wouldn't want to be pitied either. She wouldn't want anyone feeling sorry for her.

Jay silently nodded towards the guards outside of her room before stepping inside. He took a moment and waited for the door to click shut behind him before taking a look around. Mouse was summonsed back to the district; he would be more useful there than here now that Jay's here to stay. He continues to glance around the hospital room, purposefully stalling because he fears about what he'll find when he looks at her. The hard, plastic chairs had been placed back under the window and there are vases of flowers scattered around the room, sitting on tabletops that weren't near the machines working to keep her alive and comfortable. Despite the flowers, the room felt cold and inhospitable; it was far from home in all essence of the word.

He grabs one of the chairs and drags it back to the spot he'd occupied every time he has come to visit, "I'm back baby," and before he looks at her, before he touches her, he walks over to push his hand against the sanitizer dispenser hung on the wall near the door. He douses his hands in it, thinking he couldn't be too careful when it comes to exposing Erin to germs. Her wounds are still healing; her body is still susceptible to infection. He needed to be careful. Jay takes a seat in the chair he dragged over, "I shouldn't have left you in the first place," he whispers and finally, after so much stalling, he looks up at her, taking her in. She's still beautiful. The tubes and wires that were once inserted into her mouth and nose were all removed. The ones in the back of her hands remained because now that they were weaning her off the drug that's keeping her medically induced; she was being started up on a low dosage of pain medication.

Erin wouldn't want it but because pain management is a part of healing, she needs it. She was going to be in a lot of pain without it, so much pain that if she felt it all, it would keep her in the hospital longer and may push back her recovery.

The other IVs inserted into her were pumping fluids and other necessary medications that were keeping her numbers steady and maintaining the stable rate of her heartbeat and blood pressure.

Halstead thought back to Erin's initial injuries when she'd first arrived: closed skull fracture, fractured jaw, two cracked ribs, ruptured spleen, concussion, a black eye, a busted lip, bruises and lacerations, a subdural hematoma and swelling of the brain. He thought back to when Will had called him to update him; he was on speaker and all of her doctors were in the room. Will had figured instead of possibly risking the chance of forgetting an important piece of information, he'll just have the doctors update them all at once.

"The uh…the doctors said for your skull fracture, since it's uh," his mouth is getting dry and he keeps licking his lips, "since it's closed and not protruding through the skin, you don't need surgery because it'll just heal on its own. And for the fractured jaw, it's not as bad of a fracture as they first thought" he stares at her mouth, the wires protruding slightly through the small opening of her lips, "it's going to have to stay wired shut though; I'm sorry." And he suddenly felt bad for desperately wanting her to wake up for him, to help ease his worries and tell him what to do when it came to the decision on her body. That was selfish of him because with her asleep, it meant that she wasn't suffering from the physical toll all of this will have on her body.

Jay stands up for a brief second in order to lean forward and kiss the corner of her mouth. He took a pause and inhaled her scent before sitting back down. She didn't smell like herself. She's been in this hospital for too long and was starting to smell like it. He grabs her hand again, being very careful not to knock into an IV, "the cracked ribs baby, you got two of them," he whispers, finding it difficult to keep his breathing steady, "that's going to take about four to six weeks to heal and they're the two in the middle of your ribcage which the doctor said could potentially puncture a lung so they're keeping you here until they are reassured that they're healing properly and no further damage will be done because," he sniffs and squeezes his eyes shut tight to hold in his tears, "because if it punctures anything, they're going to have to perform another surgery on you and I know you really don't want that."

He dropped his head down onto the side of the bed closest to her hand as he allowed the cotton blanket covering her to soak up his tears that despite his hard attempt wouldn't stop falling, "It's just a crack though in two of them and the docs said," he clears his throat, "they said that cracked ribs don't move out of place. Those are going to heal on their own too. And I've been looking up ways to alleviate the pain because I know you; I know you're going to turn down pain medicine so I figured getting a head start during research wouldn't hurt. I'll stock up on a shitload of icepacks," he promised, "Once you're out of here, I'll do everything in my power to make sure your recovery is as quick and painless as possible, Er, you have my word."

Jay reluctantly pulled himself away, sitting up despite the protest in his lower back from being hunched over for so long, "one of the times they drew blood, it was to test your platelet count or something like that and to see how well your blood clots. The doctors chose to take the non-surgical route for your ruptured spleen, that's what all the blood transfusions and the follow-up CT scans have been for; they're monitoring it to make sure your spleen is healing and you don't need surgery. They're really trying to avoid going the surgical route again, Er, they did it when you first came in and you crashed _twice_ and I'm scared that your body won't be able to handle going in another time. The assault caused the rupture, god I hope I'm getting this right, and the rupture led to some bleeding in your abdominal cavity; that's one of the things they treated and now they're monitoring it. Er, I don't even know how I'm getting through this so I can't imagine what you're going to be thinking or feeling when you wake up."

He watched the machines do their job while he reassured himself that while Erin was covered in bruises, bandages, wires and cuts, she was still here, she was going to be okay and she was fighting her way back to him and their son. He truly believed that.

"I'm trying to remember where I left off," he scratches the back of his head with his free hand, "I remember now," a small smile threatens to cross his lips, "your concussion is the least of our concern right now; they prescribed rest for it which you're doing right now. So that's pretty much it when it comes to that. Then there's the black eye, the busted lip, the bruises and the lacerations and all of those will fade and heal in time. When you wake up, I want to take pictures of you holding our son to catalog the memory but it's just going to document his birth and your trauma and I don't want to do that to you. It'll be up to you and only you. It's so hard seeing you like this. You're not getting smart with me. You're not refusing to allow me to drive. You're not you right now and I want you back so badly. I really want you back!" He's sobbing. And a bit of drool comes out of his mouth and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. He doesn't care how he looks right now. He doesn't care at all because he just wants her back.

He's sick and tired of all the updates, of all the times she has to be taken for check-ups and examinations. He doesn't want to keep having to divide his time between her, his baby and the investigation. He wants all of this to be over and he wants the people responsible to be found.

"The uh…the subdural hematoma they fixed that in surgery when you first got to the hospital and the…the swelling of the brain is being monitored," he admits, palming the tears out of his eyes, "it's gone down some," he says before clarifying, "it's gone down enough for them to cease the anesthesia that they've been pumping you with to keep you medically induced but they say it's no telling when you'll wake. They say you may wake up and then fall right back asleep and that that can keep happening until the drug is completely gone from your system. I just want you to wake up but I don't want you to be in any pain. I wish I could trade places with you, take your spot and make all of this go away. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this."

 **7:22pm.**

Finally, there was a judge that granted them the warrants they requested to search each home of the suspects. It was decided by Voight –the lead man in charge- that the best way to go about this is to divide and conquer. They can cover the most ground by separating to search the premises at the same time. He orders Mouse to send the current address of Lonnie Rodiger to Detective Rixton and Detective Upton and the two of them took a team and left the district with guarantees that they'll call Voight the second they find anything of substance. With the order to arrest Lonnie on sight because of the photos found in his phone, Voight already knew the only way to catch those responsible is to turn them all against each other.

Mouse was told to send the address of Landon to Detective Atwater and Detective Burgess who waved for a few uniformed officers to follow them out of the precinct with the no-knock warrant in hand. This was a win for the team regardless of how the search warrant goes because it meant they had enough probable cause for the judge to agree to take away the rights of their suspects to grant law enforcement the ability to go inside their home and tear it apart in search of some type of evidence or clue as to their part in Erin's assault.

Detective Dawson and Detective Ruzek were sent Teddy's address with strict instructions from Voight that under no circumstances are they to leave without bringing in something that can get them a conviction against the smug bastard. It was pressure and they knew that at the end of the day, if they tore the place a part and still didn't find anything, they would have to inevitably face a furious Voight so they could only hope that Teddy wasn't a smart criminal and didn't dispose of any incriminating evidence, at least not right away.

Annie's place was going to be searched by Sergeant Platt and a few uniformed, rookie officers who all volunteered to assist when they realized it was more homes to search than detectives they originally had available to search them. She didn't need guidance or orders; Platt knew what she was doing and Voight trusted her to a level that she would not take for granted.

The last location, the most important one of them all, was going to be led and searched by Voight and Detective Olinsky. It was Charlie's place and Voight hoped he was home so he could slap the signed search warrant across his face as they rummaged through his pad without a care for anything of his that may be fragile. He kept his search team small, filled with on-duty officers that he could trust would keep their mouth shut if things got a bit intense.

With orders sent out that each person should report back to him if they find anything, they all divided into their squad cars, turned on the sirens and went their separate ways.

 **7:40pm.**

The update comes to his phone at exactly 7:40 in the evening. It's late in terms of when they send it out but they were busy gearing up to text it to him once they received the signed paperwork. He reads it more than ten times and before he's able to rise from his seat and respond, another message comes, requesting or more like ordering him to stay at the hospital, to stay at his wife and son's side. He smiled; he would stay, he wouldn't argue against that demand.

He grabs the hand of his wife, squeezing it gently before lifting it to his lips, "I have good news baby," he mumbled into her opened palm, "the team got search warrants for everyone we think are involved. This is a good step." He peppers kisses into her opened hand, being mindful to not tug or nudge against the IV inserted into the back of it.

Jay looks at her rounded tummy and finds himself being absolutely amazed at the female body. She carried their child, protected and nurtured him and even though he's no longer inside of her, nestled into the womb, her stomach remains large and rounded. It's like she's still pregnant. And when he reaches his hand out to rub across her abdomen, it lacks the movement and the kicking of their newborn son. His son, he's a dad and it's something he hasn't yet had a chance to appreciate. When he dreamt of the birth of his child, he'd picture himself by Erin's side, holding her hand and coaching her through each contraction. He saw himself cutting the umbilical cord and wiping the happy tears from his wife's eyes at the sound of hearing their baby cry for the first time. He pictured Erin holding him first as he cooed in her arms; he saw him holding the baby when she was done and only relinquishing him to the nurses to be examined.

Tears swelled in his eyes. He needed a moment and he took it to blink away the tears that formed. He takes a look around the room and it looks all the same. It's so bland despite the vases of flowers that were in the room to decorate it.

"I was working on your case today and one of the detectives, Upton I think her name is, I don't really know her first name. I think she asked me out," he pauses as if expecting for Erin to wake up and reply; she doesn't, "I turned her down, of course, but…I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I'm just trying to think of things to talk about but you know everything and I've been keeping you up-to-date and I'm running out of things to say," and now he's rambling.

He stops talking for a good half an hour, rolling through different conversations in his head in his attempt to fill her room with some type of noise besides the beeping monitors.

"Just you wait Er," he stares at the heart monitor, watching as it documented her steady heartrate, "our little guy, when you see him, he's perfect," he chuckled briefly before continuing, "I can hear you now, talking about how he transformed your body, how you carried him and nurtured him only for him to come out looking exactly like me." He hoped the kid developed more features of his mother as months go by but at the appearance of certain facial features, it wasn't likely, "I know they say you can't really tell who the kid will look like this soon but I'm telling you Er, you birthed my lookalike," he grabbed her hand and pressed another kiss to it, "Thank you for that," the mood turns somber, "I'll always be thankful for what you've given me. I'll never take it or you for granted because baby," his voice cracks, "baby you gave me a baby and that's something that no one will ever be able to do for me. That's a gift only you would be able to give me…so thank you, I just want you to wake up so you can enjoy him with me."

Halstead notices that a few of his tears land on her hand and whispers an apology before wiping them away, "We need you to wake up. The team, me, your son, all of us need you right now Erin, we're not strong enough without you. And once you wake up, you can tell us who did this to you," more like write it down because her jaw is wired shut, "and we can make them pay."

 **8:26pm.**

Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, was found at Charlie's apartment. It was clean, practically spotless without a speck of dust in sight. It's obvious he cleaned up. It's obvious he threw a lot of stuff out or got rid of things because whatever could lead them to an arrest wasn't here.

Teddy's place was another story. The smug bastard isn't so smart. It's obvious he started clearing things out and wiping things down. The team was so close to throwing in the towel, banking on his place looking just like Charlie's did, when a rookie cop finds a pair of boots in the back of the closet. And while this wouldn't normally raise red flags, there's a speck of something dried and red at the bottom of his shoes, ingrained between the pattern at the base of the shoe. It's clear that he's tried to clean them; they smell of cleaning liquid but he's missed a spot. And when the rookie cop holds it up to show Dawson and Ruzek, it isn't long before they wave in forensics to bag the shoes and cross-examine the smeared, dried, red mark with traces found at the crime scene.

Landon had to be the dumbest of them all. His place didn't require much searching because his own bathroom look ransacked. It was an opened first aid kit on the sink with bandage wrappers littered all over the floor. Atwater and Burgess think back to his interrogation, seeing him walking with a limp with a small band-aid on his neck and a few scratches on his arms. Erin put up a fight and this bathroom was proof enough that she fought her hardest. Forensics were left to collect everything in the wastebasket, swiping up whatever they found to analyze in their lab and cross-examine it with what was picked up at the scene of the crime.

And as for Annie, Charlie must have gotten to her place too because it was just as spotless as his own. Her place was cleaner than it had been last night when Voight and Halstead had come over unannounced. Charlie was staying one step ahead, playing defense, and counteracting any strides they took forward to catch him. It's okay, Voight isn't too worried about it, because when it comes to trying to stay one step ahead of the police, you eventually mess up. Charlie was playing the game of checkers and Voight was playing chess because he knew that in the long run, he'll have them all turning against each other, throwing one another under the bus and begging for immunity. It was an investigation that required patience and Voight was going to make sure that his team and Erin will come out on top.

 **8:47pm.**

No words were said to Lonnie when he was brought in. Despite how much pleading he did, no one uttered a word and that was scarier for him than when he's being shouted at.

Lonnie's arrested over the photos found in his phone. And considering the charge he was sent to prison for, it violates his parole. Voight doesn't want to notify his parole officer right away. Voight wants him in the cage, sweating out the possibilities of what could happen to him in hopes of him spilling the beans on everyone's involvement, including his own.

The second the door to the cage is slammed shut, Lonnie feels the anxious tears approach his eyes. He couldn't go back to prison. He couldn't. He starts rocking back and forth, begging for them not to leave him down there, but they do. They shut off the lights and Voight is the last one to speak to him before disappearing, "I'll see you in the morning." He's left in the cold cage, surrounded by so much darkness that he couldn't even see his own hand.

 **9:00pm.**

Since Jay arrived, he spent his time crying at her bedside, readjusting the stuffed panda or talking to her about their baby boy. He's so small and innocent yet so strong and fierce…like his mother.

"Baby," he whispers as if a louder tone would wake her up, "I can't wait until you see him. He's so handsome. He's beautiful. He's everything. And he's here and he's fighting so he can be nice and strong for you, just like you're doing for him."

He knew the time. It was always a constant buzz at the back of his mind, reminding him to pay attention. He tried to ignore it, hoping that if he pushed the thought away, time would simply stop. It didn't. And he was once again reminded by the time when his brother entered the room.

Will sat a gift basket down in between two vases of flowers, "I was sent to tell you that visiting time is over. I'm sorry Jay but you'll have to come back in the morning."

He blinked through his teary vision, "but…but…I stayed last night." His eyes stayed on his wife as his voice broke at the thought of leaving her again. He should have never left her in the first place. He should have just stayed by her side and let the team investigate.

"You can come back bright and early tomorow," Will tried to make him feel better; it wasn't working, "I can give you a ride home and if you would like, I can pick you up when I start my shift. I think it'll be good for you to go home, eat and get some sleep. If something happens to you then Erin won't forgive me. I need you to take care of yourself because the last thing any of us wants is for you to be in the room down the hall suffering from some form of dehydration, hunger, exhaustion and however else you're torturing your body. Come on," he rested his hand on his brother's shoulder, "if anything changes while you're gone, you'll be the first one called."

"I feel like a failure."

And Will knows that there's nothing he could say or do to change his brother's mind; there's no amount of reassurance that he could offer to take that thought out of Jay's head. Erin is the only cure for that and right now she's currently out of commission.

 **9:32pm.**

When Jay steps into his home for another night without his wife, without his baby, he knew that sleep wasn't going to come to him with ease. He was tired; his body was absolutely exhausted but as he lay on the couch with the throw pillows cushioning his back, sleep never once overcame him. He yawned. He tossed and turned and when he closed his eyes and reopened them, only small increments of time had passed. One minute went by; he closed his eyes again and squeezed them tight and by the time he opened them again only another three minutes had gone by. He sat up and tossed one of the pillows against the far wall, "FUCK!"

He raised his hand and brought it down against the coffee table, once, twice and a few more times until his hand hurt almost as much as the rest of him.

He rose to his feet and grabbed another throw pillow to toss it into another direction. He reaches for the third and throws it and then the fourth. That didn't help. He still felt pain. His heart still ached. The adrenaline coursing through his body numbed his reddened hand. Jay reached for the television remote and clicked it on, skipping through channels in search of something he could put on to fill the silence in his apartment. He settles on a world poker tournament; it's not too loud but it'll spread some type of sound around and hopefully cure his loneliness.

Jay walks into the kitchen when he realizes that he couldn't remember the last time he actually ate a full meal. He opens the fridge in search of leftovers but discovers a Tupperware container of pasta that Erin had attempted to cook; it was a little burnt around the edges and he remembered making jokes about it the night he came home to find her crying over it, "Er," a ghost of a whimpered laugh escaped him as he scooped the last of it onto a plate. He microwaved it and for some reason, it tasted a lot better tonight than it did the night she made it. He stares down at the gooey collection of calories as the tears begin to well up in his eyes. He missed his wife so much. It felt like an actual part of him is missing, like a major organ has been ripped out of his body. Yesterday, he felt angry and scared. Tonight, he felt lonely and pathetic. He's crying over a plate of steaming hot, burnt pasta with a hand that's starting to swell up while his living room is in disarray.

Once he's finished, he tosses the empty dish into the sink and for the first time ever, he leaves it there, he doesn't even think to wash it. He's not himself, not with his wife and kid being in the hospital. He walks out of the kitchen, kicking off his shoes and then pulling his shirt over his head. He throws it over his shoulder, discarding it somewhere behind him. He was tired and now that one need was satisfied, he hoped that he was able to satisfy the other.

Trudging his way into the nursery because he knows there's no point in even trying to sleep in the room he shares with his wife, he takes a careful seat in the rocking chair. He had left the stuffed panda with Erin in the hospital room and he found himself regretting that almost instantly. He needed some type of comfort and as he searched through his son's room, looking for what he could snuggle into, he found a folded baby blanket lying over the railing of the crib. It was gray with little white stars on it. He held it up to him, inhaling the scent of the baby detergent they used to wash it after buying it. It wasn't the same as the panda, but it was enough for him to relax in the rocking chair and doze off with it snuggled against his face.

 **10:28pm.**

Halstead's eyes open and he practically jumps out of his seat, knocking the baby blanket to the floor when he hears the sound of knocking at his front door. Based on the time shining on the clock, he hadn't been asleep long; it's been less than an hour. He needed more sleep but by the incessant knocking at the door, he knew he wouldn't get any at least until he answered. He dragged his feet and rubbed the bottom of his palm against his eyes to clear them.

The television was still on but now infomercials were playing. He ignores it as he drags his feet towards the door, suddenly getting a bolt of energy when he trips over his shoe. This is why he didn't leave things in the middle of the floor but his whole life is thrown off balance and that's the least bad thing he's done since Erin ended up in the hospital.

Someone knocks again, "I'm coming," he grunts. He wasn't in the mood for company, not here, not now, not when he was practically forced out of the hospital when he should be at the side of his wife and kid. He didn't want company. He didn't want comfort. He glances out the peephole to find the familiar face of his boss and his, for all intents and purposes, father-in-law. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, "What's going on?"

He feared that something was wrong. He didn't know where his cell phone was and maybe he'd received a call from the hospital and when he didn't answer, they called the second person on his wife's emergency contact list. He needed to find his phone. His mind kept imagining circumstances and situations that could have went wrong in the last hour. He shouldn't have left the hospital; he should have fought to stay like he did last night.

They probably wouldn't cave tonight. They would have probably still kicked him out but he still should have tried. Voight held a duffel bag and welcomed himself into the apartment, "Relax Halstead," he muttered, dropping his bag onto the floor in the hallway, "I'm not tired." That was code for he couldn't sleep. He waited until Jay shut the door before he finished, "I figured I could keep you company," and that was code for he didn't want to be alone.

Jay could understand that.

"Want a beer?" Jay nods towards the kitchen.

"No," Voight steps out of his shoes and this all feels so weird, like another reality or dimension because if someone had told him that he and Hank would be hanging out –without Erin- he wouldn't have believed it, "I want to be clear-headed just in case the hospital calls or there's another break in the case. I'll treat myself to a drink when the case is closed and Erin and the baby are safe, healthy and out of the hospital." Jay could get behind that.

As Voight followed him further and further into the apartment, he suddenly realized that maybe Jay wasn't suffering from insomnia and nightmares like he was, maybe he had actually gotten some sleep. His boss turned to face him, "Did I wake you up?"

"No," he lied but Voight saw right through it.

"I did," Hank acknowledged, "sorry," it was the first and probably the last time he would ever apologize to him. And Jay will accept it; he had no reason to deny it.

An awkward silence fell between the pair of them. Neither knew how to fill it besides allowing the television noise to provide them with some type of escape. If Hank wanted to be here, he would grant him that. He sees his boss scan the framed photos outlining the walls. If he needed the comfort of being in Erin's home, then the least he could do is share. He left him alone, choosing to disappear in the baby's nursery and take his once occupied seat in the rocking chair. He swipes the baby blanket off the floor and lays it against the side of his face, snuggling against it and shutting his eyes until he hears the heavy steps of his boss entering the room.

Jay says nothing; he only reopens his eyes to make sure that Voight's shoes were off. And once he was comforted by the sight of him walking with socks on, he shut his eyes again. Neither of the two say anything because nothing needs to be said. Jay's presence by itself was enough for Hank to sit on the throw rug in front of the crib, rest his back against the wall and fall asleep seconds after his son-in-law dozed back off.

 **11:30pm.**

Her eyes flutter open and then they immediately shut close. She's conscious and she's awake but there seems to be a heavy weight sitting upon her eyelids as she struggles to ply them back open.

Her eyes are raw. She's so tired. She just wants to sleep.

Her vision is blurry.

Her head is throbbing and there's a dull ache in her body.

Her throat is dry and when she swallows there's a searing pain. She's thirsty. She needs some water, but there's none in sight.

She raises her hand, or at least she tries to, but the muscle in her arm is weak. She fidgets and turns her head towards the right and sees a large window with closed blinds. She turns her head to the left and she sees a door that emits such little light into the room. She doesn't know where she is and it's too dark to make out any more of her surroundings.

She's scared. And tears start to fall from her eyes. She's unable to wipe them away because she feels so weak. The drugs that medically induced her have mostly cleared out of her body but the remaining effects has her awake but unable to move or speak.

She looks around again; her head never once leaving the pillow. She doesn't think she could lift it if she actually wanted too; she's too weak. It felt like her body was strapped down. She couldn't even lift her legs. She groans; it's the most noise she's able to make, no clear sentences or noises that would require for her to open her mouth. She cries.

She notices that she's alone. She cries even more.

She doesn't feel the weight of a baby; she doesn't feel a kick or the baby playing soccer against her ribs or bladder. She cries even harder.

She felt like a dim light; a lightbulb that'll need changing soon. She struggled to lick her lips. She couldn't physically do it.

She doesn't know what's going on. She needs answers but she's unable to articulate that. To wake up in a strange, dark place, to be immobile, to be confused, to be hurt and to be alone became a fear that she didn't realize she possessed until she was living it. This is her nightmare. She could barely sort through her thoughts and memories. She could barely recall the date or what led her to be here. Her eyes shut again and for some unexplainable reason, she manages to doze back off, needing rest and sleep because her body is so weak and tired that she finds it's the only way to garner peace and absolution from the pain.


	3. It Carried On To a Thursday

**Thursday, 8:10am.**

On and off throughout the night, every other hour, she woke up and experienced a semblance of the same pain and confusion she did when she first awoke hours ago. She just couldn't remember it. It was temporary amnesia; it was simply the root of her foggy mind and her brain being activated again. She just needed time but it didn't feel like that. The sun was shining through the window and there was a nurse in the room checking her vitals. With her back to Erin, she couldn't see her awake. The nurse refilled her IVs and she scribbled numbers and notes down onto the clipboard attached to the end of her bed and all Erin wanted was for her to look up.

She was so tired, so groggy and while her mind sorted itself through the cloudiness that jumbled her thoughts and memories, she tried and sadly failed to cry out for help, for assistance. All she could emit was a gurgle, one low and filled with a straining pain and every part of Erin felt like maybe that sound of pain was in her head, maybe the gurgle never made it past her lips. A lone tear escaped her eye when she opened her mouth to call out and felt the burn and stretch of wiring clasping her jaw together. She couldn't separate her teeth; her mouth was clasped shut. She couldn't talk so she mumbled but the bruising around her face made it painful despite her assumption that they were pumping pain medication into her.

Maybe it wasn't a strong dosage? She finds comfort in knowing they gave her the bare minimum. It was in her medical records so she appreciated them taking the time to look at it. The nurse leaves her room without even knowing that she had awakened and seconds later Erin falls back asleep with such ease that it's obvious the sedation drugs were still affecting her body.

 **8:34am.**

Voight doesn't bother checking in on his team. Instead, he heads straight to the cage, finding Lonnie sleeping uncomfortably on the bench with his back resting awkwardly against the wall. He kicked the door of the cage and the sound startled him awake, "What's happening?"

"Your parole officer is on the way and he's not too happy," Voight crosses his arms and leans his back against the cage; he's not looking at Lonnie on purpose, "you're about to serve out the rest of your original sentence on top of charges related to the photos we found in your phone and of your role in what happened to Erin."

"I didn't," Lonnie clears his throat, "I didn't hurt her."

"…then what did you do?" It seems that the morning light and a night spent in the cage did wonders for Lonnie because he wasn't combative and it seems like he was willing to give answers. Voight waited. A moment passed and the second his parole officer was brought into the room, Lonnie opened his mouth to speak, "I want a deal. I'll tell you everything that I know if I can make a deal." There was still a bruise on Lonnie's face from when Halstead punched him and if he didn't talk soon, Voight wouldn't hesitate to add to it.

Hank didn't feel like doing this back and forth thing. He was tired. He was exhausted. He barely slept last night and what little sleep he did get left an ache in his neck. He ducked out of the apartment before Jay had woken up, knowing the kid was going to need as much sleep as he could get because he has a newborn that he'll eventually be bringing home, -hopefully with Erin. Hank still refused to face the cage, a part of him afraid of what he'll do if he looks at Lonnie and the tempting bruise on his face that'll pull for him to add another, "What kind of deal?" He wasn't in the habit of making deals but he needed answers and he needed someone to start talking which hopefully would lead the other assailants to start talking.

"…a lighter sentence," he answers immediately, "and to be placed in protective custody when I go to jail," he must have been thinking about this all night because his words were exact and straight to the point and he needed no time to come up with an answer to Voight's question.

"I can't guarantee anything _but_ if you provide us with answers and some type of hard evidence then I give you my word, I'll talk to the DA to see if you can get the minimum on the new charges that'll be slapped on you. That's all I can offer you." It wasn't a guarantee but it was something and Lonnie was going to go away, that much was fact, he'll have to serve out the remaining time of his first charge since he violated parole and that's ten years and that's another fact, and if there's a chance he can get out before he's 50, then he'll take it.

Lonnie starts talking, "I got out of prison like five uh months ago"

"You're telling me things that I already know," Voight growled because he didn't want his time to be wasted. Time was of the essence and he really wanted to go visit Erin.

"Charlie was my cellmate; we were in the same state prison."

"Once again," now Voight is turning around, gripping the cage and if the look in his eye said anything, it made a silent threat, "you're telling me things that I already know."

"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't hurt Erin. I wasn't there. I was with my parole officer for the check-in, but," he takes a pause and now they're finally getting somewhere because just yesterday the parole officer had vouched for his whereabouts, citing himself as Lonnie's alibi and it's good to know that the parole officer wasn't lying, "the photos I took of Erin on the days leading up to the attack were to gather a pattern."

Now this has Voight intrigued, "…a pattern? What do you mean?"

"He needed her schedule; he needed her routine. He wanted to know what time she got to work and what time she left. He needed her route too."

"…and he needed this because…?" Voight already knows the answer but he wants to hear Lonnie say it, "…he was planning to ambush her," he answered and now his eyes are drawn to his parole officer because if there was anyone he feared more than Voight and Halstead, it was his parole officer. Lonnie gulps.

"If Erin was here, would she identify you as one of the assailants?"

He shakes his head, "No, she never saw me that day because I wasn't there. I uh, well, he needed to get her alone and he found an alternative route so he asked me or more like told me to cause a disturbance so she'll take the other route instead."

"…the car accident?" Voight asked. Lonnie nodded. Hank cursed under his breath. He had yet to consider that aspect. He just thought it was purely coincidental that the day she was ambushed, there was a car accident that held up traffic on the highway. He should have known better. In this job, there are no such things as coincidences, "and how did you cause this accident?"

"I stole a car, caused the accident but I made sure that no one would get hurt. I abandoned the scene afterwards. I just needed the highway to be backed up in traffic because when I followed her, every time there was major traffic, she took the alternative route."

"Who was all involved? I want every name."

"It was Teddy, Charlie, Landon and Annie," he answered, failing to meet either one of their eyes. He bowed his head in shame.

"Did Bunny, Teddy and Erin's mother, have anything to do with this?"

Lonnie looked up and shook his head.

"So, you did all of that and then managed to make it back to your scheduled check-in time with your parole officer?" Silently, Voight is connecting the dots in his head.

And while Hank waited for an answer from Lonnie, he was surprised to get one from the parole officer, "I was a few minutes behind schedule. I got held up at a prior check in with a felon who was released about six months ago. He had plenty of time to do as he said and then make it back to his home without me even knowing he was up to no good."

"…and is there any evidence to corroborate your version of the story?"

A beat of silence passed with both the parole officer and Voight watching Lonnie, waiting patiently for him to give up something that can be used, something to give him the upper edge because otherwise it'll be Lonnie's version vs. Charlie's version, "Yes," Lonnie whispered, biting his lip and twisting his fingers together, "I was paid. Charlie paid me."

Slowly Voight nodded his head. Seconds passed without any words being uttered; it was so silent, the atmosphere so intense that Lonnie and the parole guard felt like the sergeant wasn't breathing. He was breathing, it was a bit rushed, but he was breathing. Voight was simply putting the pieces together in his head, and his quick breaths matched his racing thoughts. He felt them staring at him, their eyes nervously focused on him, awaiting whatever move was next, and he didn't make them wait long. He unlocked the cage and before leaving the parole officer to deal with Lonnie and bring him to booking, he said one final sentence, "If I find out that any part of your story is a lie, the deal will be off the table and there won't be a prison cell in the world that'll be able to keep me away from you." He turns away and shoots off a text to the group; he needs one of his detectives to work on a warrant to gain access to Charlie and Lonnie's bank statements.

 **9:02am.**

When Erin wakes this time, she's calmer than she was the previous times. She's more aware of what she cannot do but she's still tired. She can't lift her head. She can't open her mouth. She can barely lift her hands and legs. There are more things that she cannot do than things that she can do. Everything on her hurts. And she fears the moment when she's in front of a mirror. Her mind is still groggy and even though she hears the familiar sound of her husband's voice in the hallway talking to what sounds like Will, she falls back asleep, unable to stay awake long enough to see him and reassure him that she's okay.

She wants him to know that she's okay. But, the medication that induced her coma is still in her body, slowly leaving it with every hour that passes by, but for the time being, she's stuck in an endless loop that has her waking up and falling asleep over and over again, so frequently that it feels like it'll never end. It has to end. She has questions. She needs answers. She needs somebody with her, someone that'll be by her side, someone that'll hold her, comfort her, wipe the tears from her eyes and explain things to her, because even though she can barely stay awake for longer than an hour, during the brief moment that she's conscious, she's also scared.

It's only been a few minutes after she falls asleep that Jay comes into the room and spends a moment at her side, completely unknowing about the changing status of his wife's health.

 **10:14am.**

Jay has no intention of leaving the hospital at all. He splits his time between being with his wife and his son and it's enough to ease the concerns of being a failure that the dark part of him kept trying to convince him that he was. He was still getting updates on the case though. And he found that he was okay with not being in the action, he was okay sitting at his wife's side and holding her hand. The only time he gets up is when he's pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth and leaving her side to spend a few minutes with his son.

He's spent so much time at the hospital, that he knows it so well; he knows almost every corridor, the morning and night staff and when it's time for shift change. He even knows when it's time for the nurse to step into the room and check her vitals and stats. It's always been the same though, which is good, her vitals are always normal.

Jay steps out of the room when he starts to receive updates from Mouse; he knows that Lonnie has been booked, but as of right now, there was no hard evidence to verify his story. It would just be his word against everyone else's word unless they can verify the payments, he said Charlie had made to his account. They needed something solid and if Annie doesn't talk, doesn't back up his statement, then they may reach a dead end. He silences his phone for a moment because the case is something he can't handle right now; he can't take any more bad news, he can't. He runs his hand through his hair and stuffs his phone into his back pocket, "I can't," he whispers to himself because while pushing himself to solve this case had been a good distraction, he needs to be here, he needs to be a father to his son and a husband to his wife. And if he's told bad news after bad news about the case, then he'll leave the hospital to assist in solving it.

For now, he needs to stay. He knows Voight good enough to know that he's doing everything he can to put the pieces together, to turn Annie against Charlie and have her corroborate Lonnie's story because hopefully, with fingers-crossed, maybe she has something that can tie them all to the case, to what they did to Erin, to what they did to his baby.

 **10:38am.**

It hasn't even been a complete 24 hours since Annie was arrested yet her appearance made it seem as if she'd been behind bars for years. Maybe it's the guilt? Maybe it's the fear of being contained? Maybe it's her claustrophobia? Maybe it's because she's worried about her son? Or maybe it's a combination of everything above? This woman appeared to be out of it, her dingy clothes smeared with the beans she accidentally spilled on herself from yesterday's dinner; it was hard to balance the jail tray on her lap as she tried to eat.

She was ready to get out. But at what cost?

She wasn't a career criminal. She's just a single mom, that's all she needs to be, that's all she wants to be.

She went to the hospital to pay her respects, to check in on Erin and to make sure that her baby was okay but she left that hospital in handcuffs, embarrassed as bystanders watched her get escorted out of the facility. She just wanted to make sure Erin and the baby were going to make it. Her baby has to be okay. She won't settle for anything less than that. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

Annie was kicked out of the room by Jay's brother. She didn't have the energy to fight him, not when she didn't deserve to be there. She was a suspect, most of everyone looked at her as if she actually laid a hand upon her. People were disgusted by the sight of her, a person who would harm an eight-month-old pregnant woman, thinking her capable of beating a woman so bad that her and her baby were on the brink of death. It was touch and go, every second that passed with them still breathing was a good thing, it was a good sign. She wanted forgiveness for her part, that's the only reason she went to the chapel because if Erin couldn't grant her the forgiveness she needed, she went looking for it from a higher power. It wasn't just Erin that was hurt, it was her baby too and as a mother, she couldn't imagine the feelings Erin will go through as soon as she hears the news of her baby's status.

"I didn't know this would happen," she repeatedly tells herself; it helps her sleep at night, that's only until the nightmares come, "she wasn't supposed to get hurt," she convinces herself; she knows that if she says it enough then she'll start to believe it, "I didn't want her to get hurt."

Annie wishes she could take her words back. She wishes that she could get a do over. She wishes that her son will never find out about this. She doesn't want him to look at her differently.

"You said," she knows the sound of that voice, it's a voice she'll never forget as she whips her head in his direction and watches as he steps out of the shadow, "that you slashed her tires." He remembers those words from when they arrested her yesterday. Jay had told him what he had overheard and now it was Voight's turn to get more information.

"I did," it was no point in denying it when she accidentally confessed to that in front of a cop.

"Why?"

Biting her bottom lip was the only way she could keep her mouth closed, she couldn't talk, she needed to protect her son. Visions of Travis flashed through her mind, reminding her of his importance, of why it's best for her to keep quiet.

"…the silent treatment?"

"I can't," she shakes her head. She's on the verge of tears and Voight does not feel sorry for her.

"I spoke to Lonnie," she rose to her feet and walked towards the bars, wrapping her hands around the crusty bars and holding on tight.

"What did he say?"

"I'm not here to pass messages. I'm not here to gossip. I'm here to find out what happened to Erin and if you want a deal like Lonnie then I suggest you open your mouth otherwise I'm pretty sure you'll get out of prison in time to celebrate your son's 40th birthday." The thought of that was too much, that's probably her biggest fear, to miss out on so much, to not see him, it's why she's protecting him, it's why she's keeping her mouth closed.

Annie says nothing. She couldn't muster up the strength to say anything, "Think about your kid," she hears him tell her and unbeknownst to Voight, she has been thinking about him; this entire time she thought about him, "If you go down for this, he'll be sent to foster care or Charlie will be raising him," he can visibly see her shoulders tense and he heard her breath get caught in her throat. Travis being sent to foster care had been something she considered, she doesn't want it, but she's thought about it, however the one possible scenario she never took into account was Charlie raising her son, alone, with no guidance and supervision from anyone.

She starts to pant, hyperventilating just at the visuals of her son being raised by him, "I didn't know they were going to hurt Erin like that and then when I found out that they hurt her, I didn't know the extent of her injuries. I didn't know she was hurt that _bad_ ," Annie starts to choke up, voice cracking as the tears flow out of her eyes, "When you and Jay came to my place, I thought Erin sent you two to intimidate me like how Charlie intimidated her."

"You thought we were going to intimidate you like how Charlie did to her," he repeated that last statement because he didn't truly believe it.

"…like how Charlie was _supposed to_ intimidate her," she corrects. The tears were free falling and Voight didn't look touched or bothered by seeing her cry. He honestly didn't care. She moved her face closer to the bars, pressing them against the rust, "I'll tell you what I know but I need immunity. I don't want to be charged as an accessory to all of this. I need to be with my son. I need to be able to see him again." And that seemed to be asking for too much.

Voight simply tsked, shaking his head in disappointment as he tucks his hands into his front pockets, "I can't promise you that just like I couldn't promise it to Lonnie, however, I can reassure you that Charlie won't be raising your kid and I'll talk to the prosecutor."

"I need more than that. I need the shortest sentence I can get; I just want to see my kid again."

"And how come you didn't think about your kid when all of this was going down?"

Annie sucks in a large breath and then releases the cell bars. She steps back until the furthest wall is pressed against her back and slowly, she slides down until she's sitting on the floor, "She was just so perfect, so lucky, she had everything," Annie admitted and she couldn't bear to look at the sergeant currently glowering down at her, instead, she focused on the ground, "I let that cloud my judgment and Charlie took advantage of that and the fact that we're legally separated but were thinking about getting back together, I was considering it," suddenly she looks up to meet his eyes, glaring back because she feels that she's just as much of a victim in all of this, "I wanted my friend back and I wanted my husband back but I couldn't have both. Erin and I argued about Charlie; she thought I was making a huge mistake. We didn't speak the entire time I was married to him but the second we separated I reached out and we talked and then things started to change with me and Charlie and I told Erin and she said if I take him back then we can't be friends. All I thought about was how she's married, going to have a kid and she's happy but I can't have the same thing? I can't have my husband, maybe have another kid with him and be happy in my marriage? Was it so wrong of me to want my friend's support? Her disapproval caused more problems for me and Charlie and I told him I needed more time to think about whether or not I truly wanted to get back together," Annie's gaze pleaded with him to understand where she's coming from, to try and get her point of view, "I was in the car. I got out and slashed her tires while she was distracted. That's it. I got back in the car right afterwards. I didn't see what they did until it was over. I wasn't even supposed to be there that day! Charlie came over to my place, brought his stupid friends with him and-"

"What friends?" Voight interrupts.

"Landon and Teddy," she answers without much hesitance, "none of this was supposed to go down like that. In the car, they promised they wouldn't hurt her. They all gave me their word and I thought since Teddy was there and he's her brother that I could trust he wouldn't hurt his own sister. They said they wanted to talk to her and that's it."

"So how come her tires needed to be slashed to talk to her?"

She bows her head, chin pressing against her chest as she whispered, "…because she would have just driven off, she wouldn't have gotten out of her car. We stopped in front of her, knowing that she'll stop and we used that moment to our advantage, me sneaking out of the car to mess with her tires."

"You gave Erin no way of escape. You couldn't even get out of the car and help her after seeing what they did to her. You're a coward, Annie, and you should be thanking me for ridding your son of influences like you and Charlie," he spat, his words digging deep because he knows the topic of her son is sensitive. Yet, he doesn't care.

"I couldn't help her," she attempts to defend her actions, "it was three of them and one of me! I was scared they were going to do the same, or worse, to get me to shut me up!"

"You were sitting in the car. You could have at least called the police. You could have come forward sooner. You could have done more than what you did!"

"I was scared!" She admitted, jumping to her feet and pleading with him to believe her, "I thought since I was there, I thought since I slashed her tires, I thought since I lied to you and Jay at my apartment, that you would think I was guilty. I don't want to lose my son, Voight. And Charlie guaranteed me that I would lose just that if I did say anything."

"…and I'm going to guarantee you the same because you are just now saying something."

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed, pleadingly, her eyes opened wide, hoping he would see the regret.

"I'm sick and tired of the apologies. You weren't sorry that day. You were cocky in that apartment; you were being a smart ass and I think it's because you thought you all got away with this. Oh, how your tone is changing now that you're caught?" He gives her a smirk.

Her shoulders fall in defeat because she knows there's no way of convincing him; he already has his mind made up about her, "I really am sorry Voight."

"Well some things are unforgivable. Consider it not accepted."

He gives her his word that he'll talk to the prosecutor but he makes no reassurances that it'll work, that it'll have much say over her sentencing. And he gives her a warning, despite knowing that she desperately wants to apologize to Erin, he threatens her to stay away, to not show her face no matter how many years pass, no matter how much time she'll eventually serve, he warns her to stay away, to not send Erin anything and to not attempt to make any form of contact. And if she did then that'll be another regret Annie will be forced to live with every day.

"I just have one final thing to ask," she listens, pressing her palms against her cheeks to wipe away her tears, "Why? Why did they attack her?"

"I don't know," she answers and based on the look he sends her way, she knows he doesn't believe her, "I'm not lying. I don't know! I promise I don't! I wouldn't lie and risk getting an even worse sentence than I am already facing. I don't know Voight."

 **11:27am.**

It's all like déjà vu. Jay is back where he's been, in the same seat as yesterday, holding his son's hand with his forehead pressed against the incubator. All he could do is watch him. He cherishes these small moments because he knows that anything can happen and anything can change, including his status.

His little boy was so strong; his grip so tight around Jay's larger finger.

"He's doing really well, Jay," he hears Natalie's voice as she enters but he doesn't bother looking away; he can't, not when he's terrified of losing him.

"So was that baby from yesterday," he asserts and that much was the truth; he found out this morning that the couple from yesterday whose child had to be rushed away had died late last night; they thought the baby was doing well until the baby stopped doing well.

"This is different. Here," she extends a cup of coffee, "I can't guarantee it'll taste too good considering its been brewed here but it's something."

He whispers his thanks and his appreciation and with his empty hand, he takes the cup, bringing the hot beverage to his lips to take a small sip. The coffee was horrible but it was desperately needed, "I came in here for a reason."

"I thought it was just to check up on me. I know Will is worried."

"Yeah, he is but no, he's not trying to stick a babysitter on you. I have to take him."

"…but it feels like I just got here."

She moves closer, extending her hand to squeeze his shoulder, "I can give you a few more minutes but then after that you'll have to come back. I'm sorry Jay but this is really what's best for him," and Jay knows that to be true; Natalie is looking after his son as if he were her own.

He leans his head against her hand, "Thank you," she squeezes his shoulder again before leaving him with his son and his coffee.

 **11:50am.**

It's when he's on his way back to Erin's room, holding a cup of coffee in his hand that he gets a feeling. It's indescribable so he's not even going to attempt to try to put words to it. He sees his brother near the nurses' station and he watches as Dr. Rhodes along with the nurses assigned to Erin's care run in the direction of her room. Was something wrong? The cup of coffee drops from his hand and spills all over the floor, alerting his brother to his attention.

"Jay," he runs over, "I was just about to get the nurses to call the nurses' station on the NICU floor," he grabs his brother's arm and moves him around the spilt coffee. A member of the hospital staff is on it, going into the janitor's closet to grab a mop. He brings his brother towards the nurses' station, "Jay, look at me."

"What…what's going on?" He's afraid to ask because he's afraid of the answer, "Why did they run in her room? What's happening? Is she alright?" The more questions he asked, the more worried he grows, "Can I see her?" He tries to step around his brother but Will steps to the side to block him, "Will, I need to see her. Let me fucking go see my wife!"

"And you will, Jay, we just need to give them a few minutes with her first."

Upon hearing that, Jay calms. If something was wrong, his brother would have told him. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes as the words that are the music to his ears are said by his brother, "Erin's awake," he says and he wants to hear those words again so he opens his eyes and requests for a repeat, "she's awake; Erin's awake."

Jay thinks about all of the announcements and the words he's heard in his life that has given him this feeling. When Erin said yes I'll marry you, when she said I do and when she said I'm pregnant were among his top three and he added the words his brother just uttered to that list; Erin's awake. He desperately needed to see her now. He needs her to know that he's here. He needs her to know that he didn't give up on her, that he's sorry that he wasn't by her side when she woke up and that she delivered a beautiful baby boy. He needed to see her immediately.

 **12:05pm.**

It took entirely too long before Dr. Rhodes had exited his wife's room. If he took any longer, he probably would have paced circles into the floor. He was driving his brother crazy with the amount of movement he'd been doing but now that Dr. Rhodes came out to get him and walk him back, he felt better. He had questions but none of them came to mind. All he wanted to do was see her. And the moment he did was a moment that he'll never forget.

She was sitting up with the pillows cushioned behind her for maximum comfort. She wasn't smiling but she didn't look to be sad either. She was relieved to see him and once his eyes met hers, he rushed across the room and pulled her into his arms only to release her seconds later when she groaned in pain, "She has the smallest dosage of pain medication in her right now. I tried to convince her to let us up it but she shook her head no."

"Can she talk?"

Erin looked at him and shook her head.

"…eventually she'll be able to say a few things with her jaw wired shut but for right now it would hurt and it would be extremely uncomfortable."

Will walked over to the table and pulled open the drawer to withdraw a small whiteboard and marker. He handed it to her and then gave her a soft squeeze of the shoulder. Carefully propping the board on her leg, she managed to write onto it, _stomach feels weird._

"Did you tell her?" Jay looked to meet Dr. Rhodes' eyes and when the doctor shook his head, he followed up his question with, "Why not?"

"Natalie is the physician for that. She'll disclose it."

Erin didn't appreciate the conversation, the talking as if she wasn't here. She erased it with a tissue that Will extended her way, _I don't feel kicking. I feel hollow._ She looked up to meet her husband's eyes because while everyone else might be able to lie to her, he couldn't. He took a seat on the edge of her bed and rested his hand above her rounded belly. She reached out her own hand to cover his as he answered, "Er, that's because they delivered the baby." He chose to start it off that way instead of saying that's because there's no baby in there; he didn't want her to panic and think she lost the baby in the assault. But, he realized that no matter how he said it, she was going to panic. She didn't even bother writing down her worries; she started whimpering them in incoherent and faltering words. No one understood and it only made her panic rise.

"Baby," he reached for her hand and she snatched it away, "it's okay. The baby is okay. Natalie had to perform a C-section because the baby was in distress but the baby is okay now." She wouldn't calm down. She was still trying to talk and move and reach for the table so she can pull her body out of the bed but everyone in the room grabbed some part of her to stop her. She only cried out more and it pained Jay to hear it. He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he tried to reassure her once again, "please, I need you to calm down because you're going to hurt yourself. I need you to be okay. I can't go through that again, Er, please calm down."

"… _my baby_ ," she whimpered and it stammered and came out a bit high pitched and grumbled but Jay understood even though no one else in the room did. She wanted to lay eyes upon her baby. She wouldn't be reassured until she did. She wouldn't be able to calm down and stay in once place until she saw her kid. Jay could understand that; he felt the same way.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to remember something, anything that has happened in the last day, or was it more than that. Only blurred images, foggy memories and scattered thoughts filled her mind, creating chaos inside of her already confused brain. She could barely talk properly and no one was telling her anything. She wanted to know everything. She was getting overwhelmed, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath, _I want my baby_ ; she wrote onto the board and held it up for everyone to read, _I want to see him_ , she wrote next.

"He's being taken care of in the NICU," Will gently answers, patting Erin's shoulder with all the affection that she deserves, "Natalie is keeping an eye on him for you."

Jay withdraws his cell from his pocket, and hoping that he doesn't regret this, he loads up the photo he took of their son, "Look Er," he holds the phone in front of her face, "this is him."

Her hand wraps around his cell, the wires taped to the back of her hand a constant reminder that she's just as hurt as their baby. She brings the phone closer to her face, staring with all the affection of a loving mother at her hurting baby. Tears fill her eyes. Her body starts to wreck with sobs. She wants her baby. She dropped the phone and it landed on her lap. The picture wasn't enough, she wanted to see him in the flesh, touch him, take in every detail of him but because he's hurt, because she's hurt, she's forced to be separated from him.

Erin lies back and turns her head to face away from everyone in the hospital room. Her tears continued to flow, falling out of her eyes and landing in a puddle on her pillow. Her body ached, everything hurt and the tightening of her jaw reminded her that she couldn't even perform the simple, everyday function of life, such as talking. She shoves the whiteboard and marker off her lap and it loudly smacks against the floor. Her body, so tired, so frustrated and so hurt was wound up at the thought of delivering her baby and not even knowing about it. She was forced to see him through a photo, not even in person. She had to find out the baby is a boy in a way that wasn't the surprise she and Jay had settled on months ago when faced with the question of finding out the baby's gender. She lifts her hand, the IV sticking out the back of it and she doesn't care that it hurts when she rubs it against her nose. The IV being shifted around, pinched her, but because of all of the pain coursing through her body, that slight ache was nothing in comparison, "Baby," she hears Jay whisper, hand coming to rest on her head, slowing running through her dry, dirty and bloodied hair and not giving one care in the world about it, "I know this is probably a lot to take in but there's no one I know that's stronger than you and I know you're going through a lot, physically, mentally and emotionally and you're going to get through all of this and so is our baby. He's strong and he's fighting everyday just to see his mom."

She lifts her head, looking around for the whiteboard, desperately needing it to write down a response. Will, fortunately, picks it up along with the marker and extends it to her. Struggling to give him a gracious smile, he waves off her effort, not wanting her to be uncomfortable just by simply smiling her thanks. She uncaps the marker and brings it down to the board, _everything hurts_. Jay chokes up upon reading that and then glances over to meet the eyes of Dr. Rhodes.

"We can increase your pain medication. It's very low."

Wiping away the marker ink with her hand because Will forgot to pass her back the napkin, she writes next, _can I have something strong that's not an opioid?_

"Our strongest medication here are all opioids. If I find something else to give you, it still won't take away all of the pain like what I want to prescribe you will," he warns her; he doesn't want her hopes getting too high, "I know about your past drug use and I know you're scared but you're in a lot of pain. I can't imagine how that feels because the little pain meds you're already getting isn't enough to do much about it. Will you reconsider?"

Erin doesn't need the whiteboard to give an answer to that question. She shakes her head. She doesn't want to risk it. Opioids are highly addictive and she's not going to take the chance. She bites her lip and mentally comes to the conclusion that she's just going to have to suffer and take the pain.

 **12:48pm.**

Erin's brain was still working out the kinks, still clearing out the cobwebs, struggling to push out the rest of the sedative medication that was taking its time in leaving her body. It was a brief nap, one that she didn't intentionally try to take, but the combination of the medication, her aching body and her overflow of emotions, it was a fight that she was destined to lose. When her eyes blinked open, for a split second she forgot about the last couple of hours, for just a small moment, she thought everything was normal, just a long nightmare that felt too real, however, the second she hears the beeping machines, she knows that the nightmare truly was her reality.

Jay was sitting in front of her, watching her as she slept and now watching her as she woke up. He was grateful to see those eyes because he thought he would never see them again, "Hi."

Erin doesn't say anything in return, she's still working through the fogginess in her brain and she wasn't going to risk the pain that comes from talking to only utter a greeting. Instead, she gave him a closed mouth smirk, so small that if he didn't know her, he would have missed it. She appreciates him being at her side and she extends her hand, her body relieved when he extends his own so she didn't have to reach too far, "It's going to be a journey, Erin, and it won't be easy but I'm going to be here for you every step of the way." A singular teardrop escaped and slowly trailed down her cheek, hanging onto the end of her chin until it falls and lands onto his hand the second he gently cups her jaw, being mindful of the bruises, of the cuts, and smiling heartbreakingly, "I can't wait until I can kiss you again." Another tear follows the path of the first one and lands on his hand, creating a small puddle of tears the longer she silently cries and the longer he holds her chin in his hand.

 **1:18pm.**

Erin's heart begins to speed up the second her eyes land upon her team. Each of them squished and squeezed against the door out of fear that she wasn't ready to see them. And she tried to smile, but considering her wired jaw, she ended up groaning because the action proved to be too painful. Not once did she sit Jay's cell phone down after it was handed to her a second time. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the picture no matter how hard she tried, even when she dozed off for a few minutes, the cell phone remained in her hand.

Carefully sitting it on her lap, she grabs the tissue and the dry erase board, using the napkin to wipe away her last words before using the marker to write something new, _you can come closer, my jaw is wired shut so I'm pretty sure I don't bite_.

Jay reads it aloud to them. They were standing too far away to read it themselves.

Kim releases a watery laugh before rushing over; the rest of the team is hot on her heels.

No one dares to speak, at least not yet; they all find it a bit rude to talk when she's not able to voice anything in return. She erases the black ink from the board and uncaps her marker to write down, _Hi._

Voight is at her side, silent the entire time, running his hand through the little hair he has access to under the bandages and matted areas. His eyes are glossy when her face flinches in discomfort. It's a sight not too many people have seen, and only recently has Jay been permitted access to it. He smiles, it's teary-eyed, "Hi kid," he leans forward to brush his lips against her forehead, "How are you feeling?"

She looks to Jay because a few minutes before they'd arrived, he'd asked the same question and she answered. He knows based off the look on her face that she wants him to repeat her answer, "Erin's in pain," his hand comes to rest upon her thigh, "she's feeling like hell right now but pictures of the baby are helping her keep her mind off of the pain."

Voight gave her a small smile and then peered over to take a look himself, "He's handsome."

"He gets it from his dad," Jay says, earning a small chuckle from Erin, accomplishing the one thing he's been trying to get since he's been sitting in her room, -a laugh.

Voight's hand is still touching her hair, resting atop her head to offer some type of comfort, "Kid, I wish I was here strictly for personal reasons, but we also came because we have some questions to ask you." She's an experienced detective. She expected this. She erased the board and wrote down, _don't feel bad, I know what you have to do, it's expected_.

"You're always so strong and understanding," Voight wants to kiss her forehead again but the last time her face scrunched up in pain and even though she tried to hide it, he saw through it all.

Ruzek stepped towards the bed, extending his hand to settle on top of hers, "How are you feeling, Lindsay?" He's trying to ease into questioning by repeating something that was already addressed but Erin isn't here for it. A bit aggressively, she erases her last words on the board before writing, _please don't beat around the bush, I'm not fragile, I can handle it._

It's not an argument whether Erin Lindsay is strong. She's maybe too strong. It's expected for her to break. No one would judge her. She's been through something traumatic and she has a long way of healing to go. No one would look at her differently if she needed time.

"Do you remember anything?" Atwater stepped forward to ask; she wanted to smile in appreciation but she couldn't, "…anything at all, whether big or small?"

Erin tries to think, her face scrunched together in frustration because nothing is coming to mind. She wants to hit herself. She wants to take her fist and ram it against her head in hopes of jogging her memory. And while flashes of that day sporadically come to mind, it's not clear enough. She needs time to sort through her memories. It brings tears to her eyes, more so out of a combination of pain, anger and disappointment. She couldn't help herself, she couldn't help her baby and she couldn't help the team.

"Hey," Jay whispers, taking a seat at the edge of her bed, "Er, Er baby look at me," he reaches for her hand and at some point her hand made its way to the back of her head, squeezing and yanking at her hair, "it's okay if you can't remember right now. It'll come to you eventually. Don't force yourself. Don't rush it Erin. It'll come when you're ready."

She grabs for the whiteboard and starts erasing only to start writing seconds later, _it's all blurry, I'm trying to clear it up. I was outside._

"That's right Erin," Kim encouraged, nodding eagerly, "the incident happened outside."

At this route, it was all going to take forever. She saw herself outside and she remembered the feeling of being kicked, hit and dragged. She remembers how much it hurt and how worried she was for her baby. She remembers the fear coursing through her body. She remembers everything but the faces of the people that hurt her. It'll come back eventually she reminds herself but it doesn't take away from her frustration. She could remember every amount of impact, her body being tossed over the hill and rolling down into the forest until she fell unconscious. She remembered that. Every ache on her body, she could guess where it had come from and why it was there, but she couldn't recall the most important thing, she couldn't recall their faces.

"Guys, I think it's best if you all give her some space," Jay asserted when he saw the flash of determination fill Erin's gaze, she's thinking long and hard, and he doesn't want her to set herself back, "if she remembers, I'll call you, but for right now, she needs to rest."

They understood; how could they not? They all saw how she looked before she arrived to the hospital. Each of them rose to their feet from their scattered seated positions around the room. With parting words and light pats to her legs, they made their way to the door, stepping out and leaving Halstead and Voight behind with Erin. She has a whole new message on the board, _do you have any suspects?_

"We do," Voight tells her.

 _Who?_

"Annie and Lonnie," Voight slowly and carefully informs her. He takes in her reaction, absolutely shocked by the answer he gave her, "both of them have been arrested; both of them have admitted to their role in your attack."

 _Why?_

"That's what we're trying to figure out kiddo."

 _I thought Annie and I were better than that and Lonnie…how do they even know each other?_

"It's a long story. It's one that I'm sure Jay will fill you in on later, but for right now, I'm going to head back to the district and figure this out. If you remember, that's great and if you don't, then no worries, we'll catch those bastards another way."

She's teary-eyed. And she holds onto his wrist, hinting for him to stay put for one second as she quickly erases the marker board, _I really wish I could have been better help._

"You don't worry about this. You focus on getting better."

 _I really wish I could hug you._

Voight smiles, "…the feeling is mutual, but the second you're feeling better, I got a big hug waiting for you with your name on it." She struggles to smile so she gives him a closed mouth grin. It's enough for him. He'll take it.

 **2:06pm.**

Jay does fill her in on the case, thinking that maybe if he informs her of the status of their investigation that it may jog a memory or two, but when it doesn't, he regrets telling her any of it at all. She obviously wasn't ready to hear it despite reassuring him with the words on the markerboard that she can handle it. She can't. It's too soon. She's strong, but nobody is _that_ strong. And that much is obvious by the silent tears flowing down her face and the sudden beeping of the machine that monitors her heartrate.

"It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

It's beeping so fast that it has the medical team assigned to her running into the room, forcing Jay to step out so they can run more tests, calm her down and check her vitals. He's brushed out of the room as if he's nobody, as if it's not his wife currently needing medical assistance. Their bedside manner definitely could use some work but Jay can't fault them too much for it; he's not their patient, he's not their concern, Erin is and that's the way it should be, "I need some water."

Jay pats his pockets in search of his wallet, only to withdraw it and remove two bucks from it. He already knows where the vending machine is because as often as he's been here, either for work or for his personal life, he practically has this entire hospital mapped out. He inserts his bills and keys in the code to get his water, but when it gets caught in the machine, he doesn't hold back in slamming his hand against the side, "Come on," he kicks the bottom of the vending machine, thinking if he's aggressive then it'll force his water bottle to drop, "this is just my fucking luck," he grumbles while hand and foot take turns in assaulting the machine, "come on, come on, come on," and finally the water bottle drops and he snatches it up.

After gulping down more than half the bottle in one sitting, he heads back to his wife's room, opening the door to see if it's over. It's not. Her machine is still beeping and one of the nurses yell for him to leave the room. The water bottle falls from his grip and he doesn't care about all that he had to do to get it, it's not a focus of his, not while he doesn't know what's happening with his wife. They won't tell him anything and that's probably because they don't know anything. He's starting to feel sick and a nearby nurse notices, caringly approaching and opening her mouth to probe and see what's wrong but he doesn't give her a chance, "I'M FINE," he shouts it, his words bite at her when his head swivels and snaps in her direction.

And she leaves him alone. Quietly apologizing and backing away to leave him be out of fear that he's going to snap at her again. Jay knows that it isn't her fault; she's completely innocent in all of this and maybe he's taking his anger out on her. He blames himself. She obviously couldn't hear about the case, about the details of what happened to her especially when the actual details of her assault are all speculation based on her injuries and the crime scene. No one knows _exactly_ what happened but the people responsible and eventually Erin when those memories do fully come back. A part of him hopes that they don't…maybe life will be easier for her if she never remembers anything remotely similar to or involving the assault.

His wife just needed a break.

His son needed one too.

Jay just needed some good news. He needed something to hang onto, some type of hope because he has no idea about what's going on with them. All of that is out of his control and it's driving him crazy, causing him to throw a punch to the wall, sending a sharp shooting pain up his arm that's a direct consequence of that action. He stupidly used the same hand that he punched Lonnie with and if it wasn't for two additional nurses running into Erin's room then he'd probably be focused on the discomfort. Instead, he's running in after them, the blaring of the machine connected to her beeping even louder than it was when he left out. His wife, an image of her he'd never thought he'd ever see, looks so vulnerable, so weak and so in pain as the doctor covers her mouth and nose with a mask and she fights to keep her eyes open.

He doesn't know what's happening but he's scared. He's absolutely terrified. And Jay rushes to her, trying to reach for her hand only for one of the nurses to knock him out of the way in his effort to read the numbers off the machine to the doctor. Jay doesn't know what's happening, he doesn't understand the orders the doctor is giving, especially when a syringe is withdrawn and inserted into the line connected to the IV. Jay tries to squeeze through the staff, he can barely see his wife with the way they're surrounding her, but it doesn't stop him from trying, "What's wrong? What's happening? Tell me something! What the fuck is going on?!"

"We had to sedate her," the doctor informed just as the beeping on Erin's machine slowed. He stepped away and Jay stepped forward to take a better look at his wife. The breathing mask supplying an extra burst of oxygen still covered her mouth and nose and her eyes were closed, either asleep or simply resting with her eyes shut because of all of the stress or because of the medication still making its way out of her body. His shoulders deflate at just how fragile she looks, at just how pale she appears to be, "She's not in any pain. We had to go the sedation route because she was going to end up accidentally hurting herself."

"I-I-" he can't even figure out what he wants to say, "I shouldn't have told her about what happened. It's my fault. I did this. I should have known she wasn't ready to hear it."

"It's not your fault," the doctor asserts so confidently that it starts to have Jay believing him, "Look at it like this," the medical team starts to clear out of the room, leaving the doctor to talk to him, "her brain went from doing very little activity to fully functioning. It's trying to catch up and that can be stressful for anyone. Panicking like that was going to happen whether you told her about it or not because she will eventually remember when the cobwebs are cleared. Your wife, as you know, has a concussion," Jay nods along because he does remember that on the long list of other things wrong with her, "and severe concussions can cause lapses in the memory, some irritability, confusion, changes in personality and thinking and so much more which will all contribute to her anxiety, to her panicking, to her heartrate increasing so rapidly because she's scared Mr. Halstead, like anyone would be, she doesn't feel in control, she feels like a stranger in her own body and some of it will get better but some of it won't. We're doing absolutely everything we can for your wife but the Erin Halstead pre-attack won't be the same Erin Halstead post-attack. There will be some long-lasting side effects, especially from the subdural hematoma, the swelling in the brain and the closed skull fracture. And I'm not worried about the physical injuries, those I can fix, it's the ones that I can't see and measure that raises a cause of concern for me."

Jay wants to scream. He wants to hit something, kick something, maybe throw something, but Erin is asleep and she looks so at peace that he doesn't want to disturb that no matter how frustrated, angry and upset he is, so instead, he flops down in the chair and drops his face in his opened hands, "…long-lasting effects, like what?" It's muffled but the doctor understands.

"Speech problems," the doctor shrugs before continuing the list of possible side effects of a brain injury, "seizures, memory problems, difficulty concentrating, mood changes and there's also a risk the hematoma can come back so she'll have follow-up appointments and brain scans to check to see if it's returned and we may need to perform another surgery to drain it again."

"…but, but-"

"Those are all _possible_ side effects, there's also a possibility that she won't have any. I just don't want you to be blindsided. I need you prepared because she's going to need you prepared."

"And if she does need help, then what?"

"…then depending on the specific problem she's experiencing she may need a physiotherapist, a speech therapist or an occupational therapist. There are few cases where she may need all three, but regardless if she needs them or not, I do recommend once treatment is over and the wires are removed from her jaw that she starts to see Dr. Charles, he's one of the best here."

"I know him," Jay whispers, eyes falling to Erin because she's already had to see him in the past and he doesn't know how she'll take having to see him again, "and what about work? She's a cop, will she ever be able to return to work?"

"Not anytime soon," the doctor gave him a sad smile, "but never say never." He stands there for a few seconds to see if Jay had anymore follow-up questions but when the man shook his head to signal that he didn't, the doctor made his departure. Jay moves his chair close enough so his body is pressed against the side of it, he reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers before staring at the lines of the heart monitor, watching them go up and down, comforting him enough to know that her heartrate is steady once again.

 **3:27pm.**

Erin is awake, Voight has to constantly remind himself, Erin is awake. She's not yet back to herself. She's not yet active. And she doesn't remember much surrounding what happened to her, but she's awake. She's alive. And it wasn't with any help of the people responsible, Voight is looking at the bank statement of Lonnie Rodiger, "He was taken to booking but I think we have enough information regarding his role in Erin's attack."

Rixton has his arms crossed and he's leaning against the edge of Halstead's vacant desk, "We know he was released from prison five months ago; he was locked up in the same prison as Charlie and they were cellmates," he unravels his arms to take the folder Upton just handed him overviewing all the info they've gathered on Lonnie, "he has photos of Erin from the seven days leading up to her attack; they're of Erin leaving the district and they're all timestamped of the last seven days. So, we have a charge of stalking we can stick on him too since he's been following her, taking pictures of her and her route to and from work and he deleted some of them trying to cover his ass. He admitted to everything, causing the car accident after stealing a car and abandoning the crash, all in his attempt to ensure that Erin took the desired route home. We have his confession, we've heard it and we've had him write it down," Rixton lifts the paper before setting it back in the folder, "I'll drop this off at the DA's office."

"We've got one of them," Upton smiled. She felt damn good about that too.

"One of them isn't enough," Voight growled, eyes still focused on the bank statement and not even bothering to look over at the detective, "I want all of them."

"We've got Annie too," Kim added, staring up at the mugshots of every suspect involved with the case taped up on the whiteboard, "motive being jealousy," She shakes her head in disbelief, "she slashed her tires and stayed in the car during the assault. She says she didn't know they were going to take it that far and I don't really believe that but we have no way to prove what she thought so we'll honestly never know," she turns around to face all the detectives in the room, "they picked her up for booking too so she really isn't our problem once we hand that," she nods towards Annie Pugliese's folder held in Ruzek's hand, "over to the DA. I heard she lawyered up again, but it's with a public defender, we already know how that'll go."

Voight is hardly listening to what they're saying because he and Mouse are examining every line of the bank statement until they finally come across a deposit of ten thousand, "Tsk," Hank shakes his head because really, you do that to Erin, you contribute to hurting her that bad for a measly ten thousand dollars, "Do you think you can trace the routing number to see where that ten thousand had come from?" Unfortunately, Lonnie's word wouldn't be enough at trial, they need hard evidence to show that Charlie paid him to get Erin's pattern.

"Do you think it could have come from Bunny?" It's Dawson that voices this possibility, "She could have hired him. Annie's motive is fucking jealousy, I wouldn't put it pass Bunny having a motive of frustration or hate for her own kid."

"I believe Lonnie when he said Bunny had nothing to do with it. Her and Erin have a love/hate relationship, but she doesn't hate her daughter that much," Olinsky explains and Voight nods his head in agreement because in Bunny's twisted way, of all the things she's done, she would never _intentionally_ hurt her kid.

"How come Charlie didn't list Lonnie as an alibi?"

"…probably because it could violate Lonnie's parole," Voight simply thinks like a criminal and he knows that one of the guidelines relates to the people you associate with and a parolee hanging around with criminals isn't a good look, "and he knew that it would be an easily proven lie considering that Lonnie was with his parole officer at that time."

Mouse silently sits at his desk, fingers flying over the keys as he takes the time to try and find out where the money had come from while the rest of the team discussed the case. Each of them discusses the possible motives of Charlie, Landon and Teddy, all left confused especially at wondering how a brother could do something like that to his sister. It was baffling. It didn't make sense. And even though they knew he wasn't the mastermind behind it all, it was going to be Teddy's roll that would be the hardest to prove, at least they thought until Voight received a text from one of the lab technicians, "We got an alert on the boots found in Teddy's closet," he looks up to meet the eyes of Olinsky, "the dried, red specks found at the bottom was blood, Erin's blood," he doesn't need to give the order because Al is grabbing his jacket and waving for Dawson to join him in arresting Teddy Courtney.

It's obvious based on the chemicals found on the shoes that Teddy tried to clean them, but it would have been easier for him if he just threw them out because in the design, in the creases under the shoe, he missed several spots that only a trained eye could pick up. Voight sends off the text update to Jay, keeping him in the loop because he's unable to work today, "Ruzek, prep the interrogation room. This is going to be interesting," his detective nods and jogs off because this was another break, a huge break. Two down and three more to go,

"Sarg," Voight looks up from his phone to meet Mouse's eyes, "the money was wired to him through a lot of accounts, it's obvious it was done to cover their asses and they're smart, just not as smart as me," Hank shoots him a look, wanting him to get on with it, "Sorry," he clears his throat, "it was sent to him under an alias that's been identified as one used by Landon."

"…so Landon sent the money? I thought Lonnie said Charlie did." Upton stands in confusion.

But it's truly simple, of all the complicated aspects in this case, that was not one of them, "Charlie had Landon do it. Charlie doesn't know jackshit about wiring money or any of that so I wouldn't be surprised if he had Landon do it or he paid someone else to do it in Landon's name."

"Do you think they're turning on each other?"

Voight smirked, "They've already turned on each other."

 **4:51pm.**

Erin startles awake. Tears streaming down her face with half of them starting while she was asleep and the other half falling the second she realizes it was all a nightmare. It wasn't real. The visuals that haunted her when her eyes are shut were all a figment of her imagination. She's breathing hard and if it wasn't for the soothing whispers of Jay as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm then she'd probably need a stronger sedative.

"Babe, it was just a nightmare."

She knows this yet it doesn't stop the tears from falling, she stutters, "I-I-I-it felt s-s-so real," her brain thinks the words quickly but sends the words to her mouth with a delay. It felt like more than a nightmare, it felt like a memory. And while those four words hurt so much to mutter out, it needed to be said. However nothing else could come from her wired mouth without shocking her entire jaw so she reaches for the dry erase board and Jay passes her the marker, _I'm scared._

It's such a vulnerable statement to make; it's something Jay doesn't think Erin would have admitted before the attack. He feels bad for her, he hates that he finds himself pitying her, "You have no reason to be afraid," his affirms so intensely that he doesn't leave any room for contradiction, "no one is going to hurt you again. To get to you they'll have to come through me," he looks into her eyes and she knows he's serious, he stands by every word.

 _But that's not it._

It shocks him. Her written response was something that he hadn't expected.

"…then what is it baby?"

She shuts her eyes, squeezing them closed so tightly that it forces more tears to fall, "Nigh," she tries so hard to speak it because just the thought of having to write it down makes her feel weak, makes her fell less than and worthless, "night," she repeats and she struggles to get it out without the bruising around her mouth, the cuts in her mouth and the wires protruding through her gums and covering mostly all of her teeth from causing her anymore pain than they currently are, "Ni."

"Babe, please write it down," he even goes a step further and erases her last message off the board, "I don't want you setting yourself back. You're not ready to talk, not yet."

 _Nightmares. And people's jaws are wired shut all the time and they talk._

Jay shuts his eyes because leave it to his wife to compare her jaw being wired shut with others, "I know babe but those people aren't you. Some people get their jaw wired shut for weight loss reasons," he informs her about that little tidbit he read when researching her many conditions, "some get it because of car accidents, sports injuries, and so many other reasons and every recovery is different but babe," he reaches to grab her shoulder, squeezing it so gently because he honestly doesn't know which parts of her body aren't bruised, "your jaw was broken. _Is_ broken," he adds that last correction in the end, "you don't have a lot of pain meds to counteract the pain that I know it's bringing you so to talk with a broken jaw, with the facial swelling, the bleeding in your mouth, the busted lip, the bruised eye, the lacerations, the discomfort, stiffness and so many other things," he cuts himself off because he knows she's trying to be strong when she doesn't have to, not now, no one would judge her for succumbing to the pain, for crying, "just don't rush your healing. It was a severe break, babe and they used wires and elastic bands to keep your jaw closed and your bite in place. That needed to happen for a reason so just please take it a day at a time, don't force yourself to do something that you're not ready to do. _Please_."

The way he pleads with her, the way he practically begs, the way he says _please_ forces a loose tear to fall and he catches it with the pad of his thumb before nodding. She lifts the marker and writes down onto the board, _how am I supposed to eat?_

"Liquid diet," he admits and the way her face scrunches up almost makes him laugh, _almost_ , "but it's just for at most six weeks. Your doctor doesn't think you'll need it longer than that."

 _Six weeks is a reallyyyyyy long time._

He couldn't argue with that so he won't even try.

 _There's not one part of my body that doesn't hurt._

And now tears are drawn to his eyes because he wants to take the pain away from her so bad. He wishes it were him in this bed, not her. Jay couldn't imagine how she's feeling right now, "I'm sorry Er," he whispers, "but they did a lot of damage. A lot of it."

 _What else?_

"Stitches to the side of your head, above your eyebrow and near your jaw."

Jay hopes and prays that she doesn't ask to see a mirror. He wants to give her everything that she could possibly want but that's something he doesn't think he can actually provide to her out of fear of how she'll react. It's one thing to hear about the damage done; it's another to see it. Erin doesn't erase her last question from the board, instead she taps the back of the marker against it, hinting that she's asking the same question. She knows there's more wrong with her because every part of her body hurts, from her head to her feet, everything.

"…maybe your doctor should be the one explaining all of this."

Aggressively, she taps the marker against the board again. She can't wait for her doctor. She needs to know now, she has a right to know now. It's her body. It's her pain. And her doctor doesn't know she's awake from her nap and of clear mind to process all of the information. She wants it from her husband, a trusting face, a man that she knows will give it to her straight and after a low sigh, he nods before whispering, "you had a major concussion that doctors had to monitor, um," he swallows hard, "you had a brain bleed which was the biggest concern and," he starts to get choked up, "swelling in your brain," and now his heart is starting to race and Erin knows there's more that's wrong with her but she doesn't want to hear it, not when it's turning him into this.

 _STOP_ , she writes in big letters across the board. And he's grateful for it, a part of him hoping that he isn't being selfish but this is hard, so hard. He lifts her hand and presses his lips down onto it as she uses the other hand to erase and write her next message, _Am I okay now? Is the worst of it over? Did they fix the problem with my brain?_

"They have everything under control," he carefully leans his head forward to rest against her own, "you're going to be perfectly fine. You're going to heal. You're going to be better than ever and you're going to be the best mom to our little guy. I can promise you that."

 **5:02pm.**

It took longer than usual for them to find Teddy, but when Olinsky and Dawson brought him in, practically dragging him along because he refused to come willingly, Voight was ready for him, standing right outside of the interrogation room, not caring that he probably shouldn't be the one to perform the interrogation. Rixton plans to join him, ensuring that he doesn't overstep and follow protocol exactly as it's written. This was going to be hard for Hank, a test for him basically.

"Your detectives treated me like an animal. I want to file a complaint against them."

Hank is silent, absolutely too quiet as he pulls out a seat and sits down. He doesn't say anything right away; he's only watching Teddy, his upper lip is sweating and he keeps wiping it with the side of his hand. He never asked why he was brought in but Voight knows that he knows it's related to his sister. He's trying to appear calm and unbothered, but he's sweating so profusely that his gray shirt is stained by it underneath the arm pits.

"I think," Hank clears his throat and sits up, "that a complaint and the way my detectives treated you is the least of your worries," he extends his hand towards Rixton, waiting for him to set the folder in his grip, "I want to show you something," he lays the folder down and opens it to show the zoomed in images of Erin's injuries; the pictures were taken while she was induced in the coma, "I'm curious to know," he spreads them out, the one in the middle is of her face, the one to the left is of the back of her head, the one to the right is of her arms; they didn't need images of her torso or her legs, it felt wrong to take without her consent, "which injury did you cause?"

Teddy is immediately taken aback, caught off guard because while he knew he was brought in here because of Erin's case, he expected they would provide him updates and ask more about his alibi or to see if he had any more information to offer. His attention is drawn to the photos, "I didn't do any of that," and that didn't seem to be the answer Voight had wanted to hear but surprisingly he gave no reaction, instead he simply grabbed another picture out of the folder and sat it down, it was of her neck, bruises that were there, "what about this one?"

"I didn't do any of this. I'm not responsible."

Voight pulled out another photo; it's a picture of her nails, chipped and bloodied, "Did this happen when one of you dragged her? Did she dig her nails in the ground to try and pull herself away while you dragged her?"

"I didn't drag her! I'm not responsible for any of this!"

"Did my detectives tell you that you're under arrest?"

"Yes," Teddy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "read me those rights and everything. I just figured it was an intimidation tactic."

"Nope," Voight extends his hand for the other folder, the one taken of the bottom of Teddy's boots, "no intimidation tactics here. I just wanted to give you a chance to tell me everything before I nailed your ass to the wall," he slams the folder down in front of him.

And with hesitation, Teddy opened it, eyes staring down at the crime scene photo of the bottom of his shoes, the imprints, the red specks, "I don't know why you're showing me this."

"I'm showing you this because Erin's blood was found on your boots."

"Those aren't my boots."

"Well that's funny because we found them at your place," he quips, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, "and cleaning agents were found on them which gives us the sense that you were trying to clean her blood off. You knew we had a warrant for your place and instead of throwing them out, you stupidly kept them and cleaned them. That's great for us though; it just sucks for you. This is an airtight piece of evidence against you because there's no way you could have gotten blood on the bottom of your shoe if you weren't there."

Suddenly that fake calm look Teddy was sporting cracks and a look of fear covers it. He's still sweating, more so than he was when he arrived, but now he's crying too. Those tears do nothing for either Voight or Rixton, they simply watch, absolutely unmoved by the display of regret, "I-I," he starts to stutter because his brain is buffering as he struggles to think of another way to spin this, "I can't go to prison," he looks up to desperately meet Rixton's eyes because he already knows there's no reason for him to attempt to level with Voight, "men like me don't do well in prison. I can't go back. I can explain this. It's a rational explanation for this."

"I'd like to hear it," Rixton now takes a seat beside Voight. Teddy isn't quick on his feet; he can't think of an explanation fast enough because nothing comes to mind.

"Please, I can't go back to prison."

Slowly, Voight rises from his seat, palms resting flat against the metal table as he leans towards the tear-stricken face of Teddy, "you should have thought about that before agreeing to do something to your own sister. Kim said that when they interrogated you yesterday you mentioned that your sister never helped you. Is that your motive? Kill your sister because she never offered you a hand of help? You said you stayed in the car yet we have proof that you didn't. You told my detectives that Charlie is loyal yet Erin isn't so is that why you felt the need to try and kill your sister? Out of some loyalty to Charlie, a man who probably don't give two shits about you? You said," Voight opened another folder with the notes that Kim wrote down of the interrogation, "that, and I quote, it's probably why that happened to her. So is that the reason?"

Teddy stares down at the tattoos decorating his arms, blinking through the tears that have swarmed his eyes as he tried to come up with a response. Most of his words were rehearsed, practiced just in case he found himself in this situation but he didn't expect them to find the shoes, to find any blood on them and now he's stuck between telling the truth or telling more lies, "Charlie looked out for me when I spent some time in prison. And he also looked out for me when I came back to Chicago from New York. He treated me like a little brother. I couldn't say the same for Erin," he shrugged and only snapped his head up when Voight's hand beat the table.

"You tried to kill your fucking sister because she didn't coddle you, pay your bills, hold your hand like you're a fucking toddler! Seriously? You thought you were justified because of that?!"

"We-we all had our reasons. I didn't try to kill her. That wasn't the goal."

"No, the goal was to intimidate her, teach her a little lesson."

"I do regret my part in it Voight."

"You only regret it because you've been caught. You were cocky as shit in that interrogation yesterday. You were a smug bastard when you had the ball in your court," Voight closes the folder that held the picture of his shoes, "your sister's blood is embedded in the bottom of your shoe so that makes me think you either stepped in her blood or used your foot as a weapon, possibly kicked her once or twice? Am I onto something?"

And Teddy's lack of an answer gives Voight the answer that he needs. He is, in fact, onto something. But regardless of which scenario Teddy acted on, he was still guilty and he will still be charged with the same crimes as his co-conspirators.

"You don't want to go back to prison yet you happily participate in trying to kill your sister."

"I didn't happily do anything! And I didn't try to kill her. That wasn't the goal so please stop saying it was! We didn't try to fucking kill her!"

"Look at the damn photos again," Hank growled, tapping at the one of her face, "skull fracture, ruptured spleen, broken ribs, broken jaw, brain swelling, brain bleeding, cuts deep enough to need stitches to the side of her head, her jawline, her eyebrow, all of that and so much more that isn't coming to my mind right now and you're telling me the goal wasn't to try to kill her?"

"I didn't do all of that," Teddy whispered, eyes drawn to the black eye of his sister, "I didn't do majority of that. Out of the three of us, I did the least amount of damage."

"Yet you all are going to end up getting the same, exact charges," Voight rises to his feet and collects each photo to slide back into the folder, "and do you want to know something else that you probably forgot to consider as you cry about not wanting to go back to prison," he waits for Teddy to look up and meet his eyes before continuing, "everything you're being charged will be doubled," and that takes the young man by surprise, "because every time you hurt her, you risked her baby's life so that's two counts of every list of charges we're going to slap you with."

Voight bumps shoulders with Rixton because he's angry and he's in his way. If he wasn't in the room there's no doubt in his mind that he would have hit Teddy but he has to be on his best behavior. He throws the door open and marches out, handing the files off to Kim and looking over to Ruzek and Upton, "you two, go arrest Landon, bring him in for questioning."

"We don't have hard evidence against him like we did with Teddy."

"Yes, we do," Voight is confident as he walks over to his office, "we have a confession once I imply that it seems Charlie is framing him to take the fall for all of this." He goes inside and slams the door shut, flopping down into his desk chair and covering his face with his hands.

 **6:13pm.**

Jay steps back into her room after taking a phone call from Voight and receiving a brief overview of everything that's going on, of everything that he's missed since he's been at the hospital. It helps him. Being here with Erin helps him. Being close to his son helps him. And receiving updates from Voight helps him not feel guilty about not hunting down and searching for the rest of the bastards that are responsible. He pockets his cell phone and looks up as he moves to flop down in his seat, "What are you doing?"

It's pretty self-explanatory but she sets the mirror down and writes down her answer, _I asked the nurse to bring me a mirror. I needed to see._

"Why?"

She looks up from her lap to stare into his eyes, to question him without using her words, to furrow her brows because his question made absolutely no sense to her. She wanted to talk, she wanted him to hear the frustration in her voice at his -or what she perceived as a- stupid question, _I wanted to see what I looked like._

"I gathered that," he starts, sitting up straight and frowning when she lifts the mirror back up, "I just," he watches her expression change when she looks back at her reflection, "you're still beautiful," he tells her, hoping that his words are enough, "you're always so beautiful."

She passes the mirror to her nondominant hand so she can write her response, _You're my husband; you have to say that,_ he's about to interject and deny that but she's still writing, _I'm pretty sure it's somewhere in our wedding vows._

"I'm pretty sure it isn't," he leans forward to reach for the mirror but she pulls it towards her chest, "come on babe, hand me that. Don't torture yourself." It's too late, she already tortured herself, inserting the clear image of her face into her memory, implanting it in the forefront so she's able to picture her face even when she can't actually see it.

Erin lifts the mirror up, moving it closer to take a closer look at her bruises, at the marks, the stitches, the lacerations and the swelling. She barely recognized herself. And that's what frightened her the most, to think that she might not look the same, that she may never be fully healed has her hands shaking. Her face may permanently be damaged and serve to be a constant reminder of what happened to her, "I," she immediately shuts up because just that one little word causes pain to shoot up the side of her face.

And Jay notices, forcing himself to snatch the mirror away despite how she may feel about it. He sees the hurt in her eyes, the heartbreak, the pain and the disgust all flashing in the eyes that he's fallen so helplessly in love with, he sees it, and that's why he's forced to act. She has to heal physically, she's not ready to take on anything else just yet.

"Erin…babe."

 _I want to be alone. I don't want any company._

"I'm not leaving you. I can't leave you. I saw the way you looked at yourself."

She shakes her head, ignoring the pain buzzing in her head because she wants him to stop jumping to conclusions, to stop talking and he does just that when she reaches for her board, quickly writing down below her last message, _it wasn't just at my reflection._

His face balls up in confusion and she doesn't have any more room on the board to explain so she erases it all and then writes down what she desperately wants to say out loud, _I couldn't remember at first_ , and he knows that; he doesn't want her to force it yet seeing her own face jogged something, _but seeing what they did, something came back._

Jay moves closer, reaching for the hand she doesn't need to write and holding it in moral support as she erases the board and writes down her next statement, "Three of them," he reads her writing out loud, "that you saw, Er?" And she nods, "do you remember exactly who?"

 _I just remember three silhouettes, three men walking towards me. It's like my brain doesn't want me to remember their faces. Why can't I remember their faces?_

"It'll come to you when you're ready."

 _I'm ready._

"You can't force it. I know it's hard. I know you want justice more than anyone but the team is working day and night to find out who did this and I know they'll get all of them that are responsible. You just need to focus on healing," he looks down and rereads her last message, "and you said it was three men. Annie was there. She's the one that cut your tires. She hid to make sure you didn't see her and then she stayed in the car while everything went down."

 _I can't remember the faces. I just see dark silhouettes when I close my eyes, when I try to sleep, when I look at my face in the mirror. I remember them dragging me,_ she waits for him to finish reading before she erases it and starts to write, _I'm sorry I can't remember. And I know you don't mind, you want me to take my time, but I need to remember. I want to know what they did to me. All that they've done to me and I need to know why. They might have told me why._

As he reads the board he notices a teardrop fall onto it before another one follows. She's crying. She's pushing herself, desperately wanting to offer another piece of information. He shoots off a text to Voight, quickly summarizing Erin's words before leaning over and carefully -so carefully, so gently, so softly- wrapping her up in his arms. She needs a hug. She needs him to act like he's not afraid to touch her. She needs to be in his arms no matter how much it hurts her physically. He presses a kiss to her cheek before shutting his eyes and burying his face in her hair, ignoring the smell of nature and dried blood. He desperately misses the smell of her, the one he fell in love with but he doesn't bask in it for too long because she's sobbing, her body shaking, her mouth starting to bleed just a little because it's trying to open wider than it's allowed in order to cry as hard as she needs to right now. He rubs her back, tears coming to his eyes because seeing her in pain kills him inside and he wants to do something to make her feel better. He needs to try.

But, nothing comes to mind. He can only hold her. And he feels like a failure of a husband.

"I love you," he whispers, "I love you," he begins to say over and over into her hair. He hopes his words are comforting enough but when her sobs do not die down, he takes another approach. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his phone, not once removing his other arm from being wrapped around her. He quickly goes to the picture of their son and extends it towards her, holding it in front of her line of sight and while the sobs soften enough to where her mouth doesn't need to be open to emit them, they don't necessarily stop as she looks at the photo of him. Erin's holding onto his phone as if it were a lifeline, clenching it so tightly he was afraid she might break it. Jay uses her distraction to grab for a piece of tissue, bringing it to her mouth to wipe away the traces of blood on her cracked lips and on her gums that were a direct result of her straining her face and crying so hard, "You'll get through this, Erin. I know you will."

Her eyes are cast downward at the photo as he wipes her mouth as if she's a toddler. She overlooks it though in favor of taking in every little detail of their son, _we have a boy._

She taps his shoulder and then nods downward, wanting him to look at her words, "Yeah we do."

 _We didn't get to be surprised._

"I know baby," he goes back to wiping her mouth, dabbing the tissue against the little specks of blood as she divides her time between the photo and erasing her last sentence on the board.

 _I was really looking forward to the surprise._

"Yeah, me too," he kisses her forehead before pulling away and dropping the tissue in the nearest trash bin, "and I felt horrible when I found out he wouldn't be coming into the world the way we planned. I really wanted you awake for it all. I wanted you to see it and experience it."

 _What did I do to deserve this?_

Upon reading that his throat went dry and his words choked up and lodged itself deep down his throat, unable to come out. He stares, blinks, stares and blinks at the words before erasing them and writing down her next line of thought, _am I really that bad of a person that people didn't hesitate to hurt me this bad? They left me for dead. They wanted me dead. What did I do?_

"You didn't do anything."

 _I must have done something. No one does this to a person without a reason._

"And whatever reason that is doesn't justify what was done. You didn't deserve this. Our little guy didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve this. If the people responsible are who we think it is then you've done nothing but try to protect me, your friend and yourself. You're my rock, Er. And please believe me when I say that this happened to you not because you deserved it, not because of karma or any other nonsense like that. This happened because of some sadistic fucks having their ego bruised because you've bettered yourself and your life, you've cut them off, you've kept them away, you've locked them away. Sometimes bad things happen to good people."

Her eyes fell back to the photo, thinking of her son when Jay's last words played through her mind again. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Her son was included in that statement because he's a baby, he hasn't had a chance to do one wrong thing in his life. He's pure, innocent and an angel born onto this earth. He didn't deserve this and before choked sobs could start coming out again, she erases the board and desperately writes down a question she needs an answer to as soon as possible, _when can I see him?_

He read the words as she writes them, "…when you're up for it."

 _I'm up for it._

He shakes his head and smiles softly, sympathetically, "Let me clarify…when the doctor says you can get out of the bed."

 _Everyone has seen him._

It kind of seems unfair. She went through so much to bring him into this world and she can't even see him. She even had to find out her baby's gender in the way that her and Jay didn't plan for. She was supposed to be surprised. Everything was supposed to go as planned, but nothing did and now she's stuck with the photos of her son on her husband's phone, "Erin-" he starts.

And she clenches her fist and rubs the side of it against the words on the board to erase them only to lift the marker and write, _No Jay, I'm serious. I don't need to be coddled or patronized. I just need to see my fucking baby._ She takes the marker and underlines the curse word three times to emphasize it's meaning. She's pissed. It's a part of the process, her healing both physically and emotionally. Jay is just her metaphorical punching bag right now.

 **7:24pm.**

Landon has been sitting in the interrogation room for over half an hour, Voight on the other side of the mirror watching him. He's requested for a lawyer and Voight put out the word to the public defender office and while it would be frowned upon him for asking Landon questions without his lawyer present, it wouldn't be wrong to simply talk out loud in Landon's presence. Voight gears himself up, moving his head side to side to work out the kinks before grabbing the same folder of Erin's pictures that he had with Teddy before walking out one room and into the other, this time Upton is accompanying him, "Hi Landon, your lawyer is on his way."

"So why are you in here then? Shouldn't you wait for him to get here?"

"I have no intention of asking you any questions. You actually don't even need to talk. I'm in here because I want to talk. So, you stay quiet, don't say anything until your lawyer gets here. We wouldn't want you to say something that could hurt your case."

Hank looks at Upton to start and for a brief moment, she takes the lead, "You told detectives yesterday that you were with Annie, Charlie and Teddy when Erin was attacked, two of them have been arrested for their role in that attack so if we were to take your word then that would mean you were there during the attack as well," Landon almost opens his mouth to argue her point but he remembers his lawyer isn't here and he snaps his mouth shut, "you already know you're under arrest," and he does because when they picked him up, they slapped the handcuffs on him and read him his rights and that's when he wanted a lawyer.

"You have no evidence against me."

"Aht aht," Voight shook his head and waggled his finger, "no talking, remember? Your lawyer isn't present. You already know how easy it is to get caught up if you keep talking."

"We have bank statements," Upton chimes in, opening the folder in her hands and pulling it out to set the document in front of their suspect, "this is Lonnie's account and this right here," she points to a specific line, "this is where you wired ten thousand dollars to his account to pay him to spy and report on Erin to confirm her routine and route to and from work."

And based on the look on Landon's face, this was all news to him. He was confused, brows furrowed as he grabbed the document and looked at it more closely before grabbing the second document that details the route the wiring of the money went before it finally reached Lonnie's bank account, "I didn't wire no money."

"Let me tell you my theory and you let me know if I'm on the right track," Voight says, smiling as he pulls a chair out to take a seat, "Charlie is behind the wire transfer; he just paid someone else to do it to keep his hands clean and because he didn't know how to wire it through different banks. This transfer is in your name, it's your routing number and account number; my theory can't stand alone in a courtroom and it's going to be hard to prove that you aren't behind this transfer so on top of all the charges we're bringing down upon you, we have to add a federal charge too." It was just as he finished that Landon's lawyer rushed in, reprimanding both detectives for speaking to his client. It was of no bother to either one of them as Upton listed Landon's charges while Voight displayed the photos of Erin to justify the amount of charges filed against the lawyer's client.

Landon looked at his public defender after the federal charge was explained, "That's a lie," he whispers, "I never sent that money. I don't even have that much money to send." He looks back to Voight, "I believe your theory. He's setting me up to take the fall for his part too."

"You might not know this but your whole crew of cohorts, Lonnie, Annie and Teddy have been arrested and will be charged according to their roles and will serve a lengthy sentence, all of them have been booked except for Charlie and I wonder is there a coincidence in that."

The lawyer leans over to his client and whispers in his ear, his words so low that neither detective can hear it. Patiently, or as patiently as Voight can wait, he sits, tapping his nails along the table until the lawyer pulls away, "Are you planning to offer my client a deal if he confesses and details Charlie's role in the attack?"

Hank shakes his head, "No deal," it's honestly not even his job to accept or turn down a deal, that's more so for the DA's office to decide, all he can really do is put in a good word for the suspect to them, but even without asking, he knows they'll approve of his decision, "The deals were reserved for the ones who didn't physically inflict pain."

"…but you were willing to offer me one yesterday."

"Yesterday is yesterday and today is today," now it's Voight's turn to be smug, eyes flashing from Landon before turning serious when they go towards the lawyer, "your client has a limp and scratches on his arms most likely from the attack. I'm sure Erin fought back."

"That's all speculation."

"That is true," Upton nods in agreement, taking a seat beside the sergeant, "however, we have three of his co-conspirators who have either named him as their alibi during the time we've proven they were at the scene of the crime and we have the wire transfer of money. Both of which are not speculation," she turns to eye Landon, gaze zeroing in on the scratches, "you knew Erin since you were both teenagers and Erin knew Charlie and Annie since she was a teenager. I'm pretty sure that's also how you knew Charlie and Annie. You all ran in the same social circle."

"We're not offering a deal but I'm curious to know if you're willing to let Charlie walk off, completely free and innocent of all charges even while knowing he was the mastermind behind all of this?" Voight lays down the reality of it. While yes, they have the others willing to name Charlie as a part of the plot, they needed something hard that'll cement his guilt. For Lonnie, they had photos that violated his parole, a witness willing to identify him as a man that argued with Erin, a confession, photos timestamped of Erin's routine and the received transfer of a large sum of money. For Annie, they had a clear confession in front of a cop, one that came from the heart and was in her confession in the hospital chapel. She spoke with truth because she was comforted by the thought of being alone. For Teddy, they had the boots. For Landon, they had the bank statement linking the transfer of money to him, whether he was responsible for that or not. And for Charlie, all they had was confessions from other people. They didn't even have a confession that came directly from him like they had with Annie. They needed more. What they had against him wasn't enough. That wouldn't hold up in court. They needed something solid, something more than just word of mouth from others. He had to have messed up somehow.

"Charlie is smart," Landon whispers to his lawyer; he had a role in this but he's being framed for doing something that he didn't do, "this was all his idea and he convinced us to get on board, using our dislike for her, feeding off of that so we can help him and I did."

"What made you dislike her so much?"

Almost feeling ashamed, he glanced down at the photos spread out on the table, "Halstead."

"Her husband," Voight filled in for the confused lawyer, "How did Jay make you dislike Erin?"

"We hooked up, years ago, they weren't married, they weren't even together but then they got back together and she dropped me. I reached out, put my heart on the line and she rejected me for him, married him months later, stopped answering my calls and pretended like we didn't have history. Her mom was rooting for us; she wanted us together but Erin humiliated me instead. She's with me for a few weeks and then drops me, says she had fun while it lasted and then went back to her ex only to marry him months later and now, she's having his kid."

His lawyer looks over at him, "Stop talking."

"You did this," Voight's hand points to the photo of her face, "because she rejected you, because she didn't want you anymore. She didn't humiliate you. You humiliated yourself. You didn't get what you wanted so you acted like a spoiled brat and threw a fit, only this fit wasn't annoying, it was life-threatening and illegal. You tried to kill a woman and her son because you don't have the balls to handle rejection. People are rejected every single day yet you don't see all of them doing bullshit like this. It's not her fault that this happened; it's your fault. Charlie is responsible for his role and you are responsible for yours, no matter who convinced you, you went along with it. You're just as guilty and you're going to get to think about that every day for the rest of your life, now" he collects the photos, "if you have nothing else to offer then I guess we should get a start on booking you," he starts to stand up, but Landon held out his hand to stop him.

On any other occasion since he wasn't getting a deal, he wouldn't have said anything. If Charlie hadn't framed him for the money transfer, he wouldn't have said anything. It isn't illegal to transfer money from one account to another, that could have easily been explained through a simple lie, but to pass it through multiple banks to try to hide the transaction is when things start to look guilty and if Charlie doesn't have his back, then he won't have Charlie's back, "I wasn't joking when I said that Charlie is smart and all I can think of is the restraining order. Erin got one against him and I'm pretty sure that can bring forth a motive."

"He said she got it because he paid her a couple of visits."

Landon doesn't know the specific reason behind the restraining order but he knows it's more than that, "When we pulled up, Erin said you're not supposed to be anywhere near me. She wasn't talking about me or Teddy, we had hoods on our heads and a mouth scarf, I honestly don't think she recognized us but Charlie, he was bold, he didn't wear any of that, he wanted her to see him. She said he was supposed to stay away from her. She actually looked scared, she was so focused on him, I don't even think she was that worried about us. That's not the look of a woman who got a restraining order out on someone that visited her a couple of times. Teddy and I had no intention of killing her, just sending her a message, and Charlie said that's all he wanted to do too but he didn't cover his face, he wanted her dead."

"…and how is that information going to help us?" It's Upton that questions it because Voight's mouth is dry and his thoughts have escaped him the second he heard some of the last words her attackers heard before they beat her so badly. He wants to step out of the room, but he's in charge, he's the boss and he has to set an example.

Landon sits up and leans forward, whispering as if the man he is incriminating is in the room, "Every restraining order is different, it has different clauses and rules. I'm not sure what were the terms in his but I'm sure that if you find out then you'll get your evidence because once the restraining order was granted, he started planning all of this. If there's no Erin then there's no restraining order, get rid of her, get rid of the order. That piece of paper didn't protect her, it didn't stop him, it only fueled him, it gave him a reason to draw her in and attack."

 **8:35pm.**

It's probably because they felt bad for her, pitied her, looked at her as some fragile being that'll break at any given second. She didn't know what it was that made them give in and allow her to see her son but she was grateful for it. She overlooked the increase in pain as Jay picked her up from her bed and carefully placed her into a wheelchair, the IV transferred to a mobile stand that'll roll alongside her and continue to pump medication into her body. She struggled to lift her legs up to situate her feet on the bars but her husband managed to see the strain in her eyes and bent low to do it for her. She looked for her whiteboard, wanting to write down her thanks but he seems to understand her, he gets her, "You don't have to thank me baby."

She breaks down at the sight of him, at the visual of him connected to all the tubes and wires. He's so small yet he's fighting so hard, -her little guy. Erin covers her mouth when she feels a gasp escape it, "H-he-he's," she struggles to think of the word she's trying to say, "be-beau-"

"…beautiful," Jay finishes for her and she nods, tears trailing slowly down her face, "He's perfect and he's ours too, Erin." She nods because everything he says is the truth.

And she wants to hold him but she knows he needs to rest. It's not the right time. He isn't ready and neither is she. Her body is so bruised and weak that even if she attempted to hold him, he'd fall out of her arms. She can barely hold herself right now. Her little guy was restricted and so was his mother, "Han-han-handsome," she tried to whisper, pressing her hand against the incubator. Erin knows that no one in the room probably heard and understood what she said but as long as she knew what her words were and what they meant, she was fine. Her comment wasn't meant to be responded to, it was just meant to be stated as fact because to her, this little guy was handsome. And that's a fact, "At some point we should fill out the birth certificate. We have to name him and sign it," Jay whispers, his hands wrapping around her shoulders.

Erin is sitting in a wheelchair. Her legs being too weak to carry her down a hallway and up a floor to visit her baby so the only way they'd agree for her to see him is if she was pushed around in this contraption. An IV in her arm, connected to a pole on wheels that she rolls alongside her when she's pushed around. It's a pain medication, not an opioid, nothing that could possibly set her back, but a simple over the counter med that anyone can get at their local pharmacy. It wasn't much but at least it did something.

Her hand falls to the board on her lap and she writes up a message before displaying it to him, - _When can he come out of there?_

Jay looks around, "I'm not sure yet. I was hoping we'd run into Natalie so you can ask her all of the questions I know you have running around that head of yours. We can sit here for a while until your doctor comes to get you for more tests. Natalie will probably stop by once she's done making her rounds."

Erin nods and focuses back on her little guy, resting inside of the incubator. Her hand that had no IV sticking out of it goes through the hole so she can touch him, so she can feel his wrinkly skin and when his little hand takes such a strong grip around her finger, she smiles, ignoring what little pain shoots through her at the feeling of her healing mouth stretching across her face, "He's," she says it so carefully because she really wants Jay to understand her, "perfect." Once that last word leaves her mouth, her tense shoulders deflate because just attempting to talk strains her mouth, aches her cheek, hurts her head and pains her face, but she had no regrets. She dreamed of this moment, meeting her little boy and while that dream turned into a nightmare, it didn't stop her from wanting to salvage as many good moments as possible.

"I think we're bias but I agree. He's perfect and strong. I can't wait until both of you are discharged so we can take him home."

Erin smiles and nods along. She appreciated the fact that she was granted the opportunity to see her son. He was a welcomed distraction from what's going on. It gave her body a break, rather than focusing on her pain and discomfort, she focused on him. She didn't bask in her worries, in wondering how she can think so clearly but when she wants to voice that same clear thought, it comes out delayed or as a stutter. It seems like the wires that connect what she wants to say to actually saying it have been frayed.

Her thumb rubs against the back of her son's small and scrawny hand and she ignores Jay taking a picture, wanting to remember this moment even if she looks haunted and abused. This was good despite what happened to her. She's meeting her son for the first time and dreaming about this day was nothing in comparison to the reality of it. Erin has heard from other mothers that labor never goes as planned, but she's pretty sure this isn't what they had in mind. She doesn't pull her eyes away when Natalie walks in and gives them the updates on her son. He's doing so much better than her and that Erin is grateful for, she'd rather take the brunt of the assault than for her son to receive it. She was 32 weeks pregnant when he was delivered weighing in at a few ounces under four pounds and while considered moderately preterm, he had the best medical care and Erin wanted to jump out of her chair and hug Natalie so hard despite knowing her body wouldn't be able to handle it. However, Erin stays seated as she stares at her son and listens to the updates.

"Baby Halstead was born premature and while that's always a concern, what maximized our concern was what induced you into labor, -the attack. I was worried about what the attack could have done to your son," Natalie continues and while a lot of this information Jay already knew, some of it he was just now finding out, "he's going to be here in the NICU for a few weeks but based on the tests we've been running and how he's responding, he shouldn't have any long-term effects of prematurity, but I'm keeping an eye out just in case that changes." Erin continues to stare at her baby; he simply looks like a tinier version of a full-term baby, "He still needs special care so his immune system can continue to mature and he can develop that natural urge to suck for his feeding. Before we discharge, we have to make sure he can eat, breathe and stay warm without any help from our staff and our equipment. His breathing has gotten so much better, as I said before he hasn't developed his suck for feeding yet so we definitely can't discharge until he can take all his feedings by mouth and I don't plan on moving him from the incubator until he can maintain his body temperature in an open crib."

She's said so much at one time that it's difficult for Erin to process yet she says nothing. Jay didn't seem too concerned about what was said so Erin found comfort in that.

Erin hears Jay ask questions and she listens to Natalie's answers and while earlier she was filled with so many questions, none of them came to mind. Erin will be in the hospital for at least a week and she starts to wonder if she'll be discharged first or her son. The both of them so hurt, so injured that it brings tears to her eyes because the one thing a mother should do is protect her children and she couldn't even do that. And she wasn't okay, she can't explain it but she just knows that she'll never be the same. Erin brings her face closer to the incubator and blinks away the tears, doing it so quickly that Jay doesn't notice and when Natalie leaves the room, he wraps his hands around the back handles of her wheelchair, -WAIT, she thinks it because she's not ready to leave but her problem came from trying to actually say the word. She thinks it without much difficulty but her brain struggles to send the signal to her mouth to say it and when it does, it comes out delayed and stuttered, "wa-wait!" It hurts to say but it's worth it.

"We can come back in the morning. Visiting hours been over but they made an exception. And on top of that, you need to rest, Er. We'll be back, I promise."

She doesn't have it in herself to argue with him because she knows he's right. She's tired and that much was proven when she dozes off as he pushes her and the IV stand back to her room.

 **9:46pm.**

Voight sets his phone down on the corner of his desk after reading the text updates he received from Halstead. He wanted to be by her side too but he knew he was better here, working to lock away those responsible for putting her there in the first place. And she wasn't alone, she had Jay by her side, she had great doctors and nurses looking after her at all hours of the day and that was all Hank needed to comfort him, to relax his racing thoughts and focus on what he needs to do.

He had Mouse find out the name of the judge that signed off on the restraining order and when he reached out for information, hoping if he spoke to him man to man to get insight, he was only turned away and reminded that he needs to get a warrant. The team filed one but it's late and it most likely wouldn't be looked at and signed until tomorrow.

Voight had a stack of case files piled high on the corner of his desk; he doesn't plan on leaving his office until he's combed through every document, every piece of evidence, every confession, every motive and every note. He wants to make sure he hasn't overlooked anything.

"Hey sarg," Mouse greets, walking into the room, grabbing one of the files off the stack and flopping down into one of the chairs, "I ordered some pizza. Should be here in an hour?"

"What are you doing here? You're technically off the clock."

"You're off the clock too," Mouse points out.

"I just want to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"Me too," he replies, resting the opened file on his lap, highlighter in hand, "Jay's like a brother to me and that means that Erin is family. I don't mind staying longer."

"…and neither do we," Kim says, walking into Hank's office with Olinsky, Dawson and Ruzek following along behind her. The latter three are rolling in their desk chairs as Kim grabs a file off the top and sits in the seat next to Mouse, "I don't think any of us can get much sleep knowing that Charlie is still out there, probably planning on how he can stay one step ahead of us."

"I'm hoping once we see the details of the restraining order, it'll give us a clear motive so we can stop speculating. Once we know the reason why Charlie did this, everything else should fall into place," Voight explains while the other detectives all take a file off the top, "we just need a motive because the biggest question the jury will have is why? Why do all of this?"

Dawson flips through the folder that contains the crime scene photos, "We know forensics scraped every part of the crime scene, have we heard any word back?"

"They're so overworked, as many crimes committed, they're probably swamped," Ruzek retorts, shaking his head because the fact that they haven't heard word on evidence found at the crime scene means they haven't had a chance to run it through the lab, "maybe we can put a rush order on it. How did we get the DNA from Teddy's shoes back so fast?"

"It was in a different jurisdiction. His home was in a different county so it was sent to a different lab," Olinsky answers, eyes carefully reading the file created on Landon Moore.

"…maybe," Voight looks up, staring into the distance as the wheels in his head start to turn, "I can promise a favor, no questions asked, for the director. I'm sure he'd love to have me owe him something for once," he blinks back into focus and then turns to face Dawson, "keep searching the crime scene photos, write down what stands out and what you'd prefer gains top priority and then make the call, ask to speak to the director, they'll say he's busy but don't hang up until you have him on the phone and then make a deal. Get her case moved to the front, tell him what we need to know about by the morning time. And find out if they collected any evidence from Erin's body? They usually swipe under the nails, take clips of the hair; Charlie might be smart, but Erin's smarter, have him start by testing the collections they gathered from Erin, whatever those may be, and if they haven't swabbed her yet because sometimes it does take time depending on the severity of the victim's injuries, then have them call me and I'll put in the call to Halstead."

 **10:57pm.**

It's been such a long day and an even longer week for her. He couldn't imagine, he couldn't fathom even uttering the words of exhaustion in her presence because if anyone had a right to those feelings, it was her. Jay sat at the edge of Erin's bed, facing her, smiling and caressing the side of her face as gently as he possibly can because he's overly cautious and worried. He doesn't want to cause her anymore pain than she's already in and he's barely touching her, only the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against the areas on her face that isn't covered in bruises, scratches, lacerations, stiches or bandages.

"We should come up with a name for our son."

That draws a smile onto her face and he knows it hurts her but he doesn't reprimand her for it. She deserves to smile more than anyone, "I know we've wanted to be surprised so we kind of brainstormed names for girls and boys but we never wrote anything down or come to one decision. I think that's something we can do now."

She nods and smiles and Jay would be willing to pay anything to get a glimpse of her mind, "I can give you my phone to google," he extends it and she grabs it, tapping the button to lighten the screen, "my passcode hasn't changed," he tells her because she's always known it. Yet, she stares at the numbers with such a blank face that it raises concern, "your birth month and day." A sigh of relief is released when she's able to type in the date.

Erin sets the phone down on her thigh and lifts the markerboard to write down what would be so easy to say if she could talk, _Can you do it?_

"You want me to search names and read them out loud," she nods and he grabs his phone to start the search, "Er, what's going on? You can talk to me about anything. You know that."

She erases the board before writing, _It's difficult._

"What's difficult?"

 _My head_ , her eyes fill with tears but they don't fall, _it feels like I'm living with a brain that doesn't belong to me_ , she looks up to meet his eyes and he pauses his search to meet hers. She reaches over and grabs the stuffed panda, their son's stuffed panda and she squeezes it tight as if it was a lifeline, as if it took away more pain than the pain medication and she frees one hand to erase the board and write, _I feel like a different person,_ and suddenly he thinks about his conversation with the doctor, his hands start to shake as he moves even closer, _my head is like a puzzle I can't put together because some of the pieces are missing; their lost._

"You might find them."

And suddenly she looks back up at him, so much intensity in her eyes and so much focus on him that she doesn't even need to look at the board to erase it before starting her next sentence, _I can't explain it but it's something different, it's something wrong in my head_ , she looks up to make sure he's reading and once he's finished, she erases it and writes the next part, _I'm scared I'm not me anymore, I'm not the Erin you fell in love with_ , as she writes the tears fall from her eyes and land onto the board; she lets it sit there for a minute before wiping it all away and writing again, _when I looked in that mirror earlier, I saw me but it's not me. I can't even pretend that I'm okay because I don't even know how. It's so foggy up here_ , for emphasis she points at her head.

"Babe," Jay sets his hand on her thigh, "it's going to take time. You haven't even been fully awake for 24 hours. You need time. We won't know what we're facing in the long-term until you're healed and we'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it."

 _I don't want to make your life harder than I've already made it these last few days._

"You're not making anything harder. This isn't your fault. I'm here because I love you and there's nothing or no one that can make me stop loving you." The way he looks at her lets her know that he means every word he just said. This is going to be hard, especially for her, but he has no intention of leaving her side. He'll be with her every step of the way and the sooner she accepts that, the sooner they can move on to focusing on her getting better and choosing a name.

It was another day closer to catching the men responsible, another day of gathering evidence, warrants and making arrests. And Jay didn't regret making the decision to stay by her side, to support her every second of her stay here because he knows this is frightening for her and he hopes that his presence at least relieves her of some of that fear. Erin doesn't remember much; she barely remembers anything relating to what happened so it's no question that she needs time before talking to any detectives. For her mental state, she needs as much time as she can get and Jay refuses to push her any more than he's already done. She deserves that. She deserves patience. And she deserves all of the love and support that he can humanly offer.

 _I like that one_ , he reads off the board and then follows her hand when she points at a name on the long list he had pulled up on google, "Liam," he whispers, "Liam Halstead. I love it."

To be honest, she could have chosen to name their son anything, after a cartoon, after an object, after literally anything and he would have agreed to it. Jay doesn't even think it's possible for him to turn her down right now, not after sharing such a vulnerable moment, not after she tried to help him understand what's going through her head. He clicks on the name and when the page loads, he reads, "it says it means strong-willed warrior and protector." And that seems to be all she needed to hear before slowing nodding her head, sealing the deal on his first name, "and for a middle name we can go with the boy version spelling of your name, Aaron. Liam Aaron Halstead has my vote if you're down for it." It goes without explanation why he insists on naming their son after his mother, the same pronunciation, just the male-version, and it makes Erin tear up, hands shaking, causing the IV that's inserted and taped down to the back of her hand to shift uncomfortably. He really doesn't want to make her cry but at least this time they're happy tears and when she nods her agreement, he sends off a text to Will so at least they can complete baby Liam's birth certificate tonight.

 **11:08pm.**

Charlie sits at home, beer in one hand and remote in the other, flipping through channels on his television. He looks over to his phone, sitting on the arm of the chair and he checks for the third time that night to see if he had any missed messages. None. He was growing anxious. His leg starts to bounce up and down and he continues to channel surf until he suddenly stops on the news when he sees the mugshot photos of Annie, Landon, Teddy and Lonnie displayed on the screen, "Fuck," he sits up and looks around; it's quiet in Annie's apartment, he intended to stay here until she got home, Travis had called him when his mother didn't show up to pick him up from school and now Charlie knows the explanation for her absence.

If anybody was supposed to go down for this, it was supposed to be everybody but him and Annie. He threw the remote across the room and it broke, batteries falling out when it made impact against the wall, "Dad," he hears Travis shout; he walks out of his room, holding the controller for his video game, face contorted in confusion, "What's going on? What was that-" his words suddenly stop when his eyes fall on the TV, recognizing the image of his mother even if she didn't look her best, "Why is mom on the news?"

Charlie doesn't have the remote to mute it or turn the channel so instead he watches his son take in the list of charges his mother had against her. He was a kid but he was old enough to understand. He's a teenager, a smart one, he knows what everything the news is telling him means, "Did mom actually do what they're saying she did? Did mom hurt Erin?"

"I don't know," Charlie shrugs, feigning ignorance, "but I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. Go ahead and finish playing your video games. If you're hungry, I can order us some food, maybe some dessert too," Travis looks over to his dad. If his mom was here she would have sent him off to bed by now and dinner definitely would have been served hours earlier, but Travis is practically an adult now -at least in his eyes- and he didn't mind the sudden change in routine, he only wished his mom was a part of it, "I thought you were getting back together."

"We are back together," he says to appease his kid.

"…but how can you be together if mom isn't here?"

"I'm not leaving your mother even if she goes to prison," he says, rising up and walking over to his son, ruffling his hair and patting his back, "remember son, I love you and your mother more than everything, it was never my decision to separate, it was hers and I got her back, I won her over, I'm keeping the family together. Your mother and I aren't divorcing."

"…but mom said-"

"It doesn't matter what your mother said because that was in the past. What I'm saying is in the present, it's the now and now we're back together, you have both of your parents back. That's enough of all of that talk about me and your mother, just know that I never stopped fighting for her, everything I do, I do for you and your mom because I love the both of you so much," He throws his arm around his kid's shoulders and leads him in the direction of the kitchen, "now come on, show me where your mother moved the takeout menus? I have a taste for burgers."

"…but dad-"

"I said that's enough," his voice grows stern; serious enough that it has Travis's shoulders tensing and him stepping away from his father. He bows his head as he silently rushes over to obediently grab a menu, muttering an apology not out of respect for his father but out of fear.


	4. It Lasted For A Lifetime

**Thank you all. Disclaimer: I have no degree in the medical field. Only medical experience I have is the internet and medical dramas on television.**

 **A Day Later.**

Erin still finds herself sleeping a lot as the medication that induced her into a coma continues to leave her system. She reawakes from yet another nap, confused and a bit disoriented before she remembers her location and the reason behind her stay. Her headache is back, it's become such a permanent on and off fixture since she first woke up from the coma. It comes, it lasts for a few hours and then it goes, only to come back a few hours later ready to repeat the cycle. It's on and off throughout the day and most of the time she doesn't notice when she's busy and has a distraction but now that she's waking up, the moment it hits, she notices and shuts her eyes, groaning through the wires in her mouth, "Babe, are you okay?"

She hears his voice. He's concerned and that's the last thing she wants for him. Immediately she opens her eyes and nods, only making her headache worse but she ignores it for him. She puts on a bright smile for him yet he sees through it all, "You're not okay. Should I get the doctor?"

Erin looks around for her whiteboard and when he senses that's what she wants, he hands it over to her along with the marker, "Headache," he reads the word out loud before she writes another word, "Nightmare."

"I think it would be good for you to talk to Dr. Charles, at least once the wires come out."

 _I think that's a good idea_ , she writes and he finds himself relieved and worried that she doesn't put up an argument because maybe it's more serious than he thinks for her to agree to this so quickly. That isn't like her. But, he doesn't dwell on it because she intends to reach out to him. She intends to get help.

"I've been reading about brain injury," he admits. And that seems to draw a shocked expression to her face, she's touched by the thought of him going above and beyond to prepare himself for the effects of her attack, "and I said that to say whatever the doctor tells us, I'm ready, we'll be ready. Nothing is going to scare me away especially no nightmares. I've had them, you've helped me through them and I'll do the same for you. Always."

He reaches to take the board away now that she's answered his question but when his hand is extended, she notices for the first time the dark bruises on his knuckles. Her hand latches onto his, accidentally dropping the marker and her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when her opposite hand begins to trace every dark bruise and minor cuts, "You want to know what happened," she nods, "I was hoping it healed before you noticed," she gives him a look and he stops beating around the bush, "I hit our coffee table and I hit Lonnie." His face cringes, kind of expecting a reprimand even though he knows if it comes, it'll come in the form of black ink on a markerboard.

It never came though. Surprisingly for him.

Instead she carefully -as if he's more hurt than she is- raises his hand to her mouth and brushes her lips over it, before bringing it to her chest, "Er, I'm fine. Honestly. No need to worry about me."

She just loves that man so fucking much.

"And I love you too." She doesn't say it out loud yet he knew what she was thinking and managed to respond accordingly. She lays another kiss down upon his hand, holding it there until the door opens and her doctor walks in, clipboard tucked under his arm as he pushes his hand against the sanitizer dispenser. He rubs his hands together and makes his way further into the room.

"I'm here to talk about the short-term and long-term prognosis for Erin's recovery," she drops her husband's hand after comprehending the doctor's words, "I'll start off by saying that we intend to keep your jaw wired shut for at least six weeks."

"Six weeks," Jay repeats, looking from her doctor then to Erin, staring a little bit too hard at her jaw, tracing the scars with his eyes before settling on the bruise where the fracture occurred. It has to heal back into place. And that's going to take time, -at least six weeks. Whew.

Overview of Erin's injuries: closed skull fracture, subdural hematoma, swelling of the brain, broken jaw, two cracked ribs, ruptured spleen, severe concussion, black eye, busted lip, lacerations, bruises and stitches to the side of her head, her eyebrow and her jawline. Her brain overloads with information and her thoughts scatter and her wires are frayed as she tries to keep up with all of the medical jargon. At least Jay is nodding his head which relieves her enough to know that he at least understands and can repeat it to her later.

She struggles to keep up and she reaches for the board, the marker and the tissue to erase her last words before writing, _I'm having trouble following all of the different lines of discussion,_ it's Jay that takes the time to read it aloud for her, _and you two sometimes talk at the same time and it's a little hard trying to piece it all together. I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm not dumb or trying to be rude or anything, my head is just overloaded with so much information right now that I'm getting a headache. A really bad one."_

She should have known that her doctor wouldn't judge her. She's not the first patient he's probably heard this from and he takes the constructive criticism well. He simply slows down his rhetoric and repeats himself until everything that needs to be discussed is said and he's rising from his seat and leaving the room. She feels better, at least because she knows a little more about what's wrong with her. So much can be explained and if she remembered more details of the attack, she could probably pinpoint exactly what caused what injury. It was advised that she gets more rest and Jay had every intention of making sure that she did.

"Knock knock," the two of them look up to see the door open to reveal her team.

When the team entered her room, it was to a sight that they will never take for granted. Erin was sitting up in the hospital bed, the blankets tucked around her legs and despite the bruising around her face, she was smiling because they were a true sight for sore eyes.

Dawson, at the sight of her, felt himself grow misty eyed, "Welcome to the parents club where your heart is now in human form outside of your body," he moved towards the bed to lean over and give her the lightest of hugs, "where you'll never stop worrying about him even when he's grown and moved out. I saw pictures. He's handsome, Erin, and he's so strong, just like you." The detective squeezed her shoulder gently. He didn't want to aggravate a healing wound. He stepped back when other members of the team moved in.

The new mama smiled, that was all she seemed to be able to do before she used the marker to write a message to him, "Thanks Antonio; that really means a lot," he reads it aloud.

"It's true," Kim strategically places the celebration and get well soon balloons around her room because she was told by Jay that it needed more color. She reaches into a gift store bag and withdraws a teddy bear, "this is for the baby. He's so beautiful," Kim whispered as she leaned over to hug Erin next, "he's going to be his daddy's twin."

Voight moves in, pulling a seat up close to take her hand, "Erin, I hate to be that person, but I just wanted to go over a few things with you, maybe you can supply us with some information we're missing." She nods. Jay tenses. He doesn't know if she's ready. Hank takes a deep breath before speaking, "We found out you had lunch with Annie before the attack, you've filed a restraining order against Charlie and you were harassed by Lonnie because he wanted to see Jay." She vaguely remembers a bit of information from each situation he listed, "Is there any more information you can provide?" And surprisingly, she nods.

Erin writes so fast, it's the quickest she's written on the whiteboard, writing small enough to fit all of her words and big enough for them to read, _I knew Jay would get angry if he saw Lonnie, he almost got into trouble before when he and Lonnie got into it, I was trying to protect him and avoid that. He couldn't afford to let that man get under his skin._ She looks to her husband, apologizing with her expression for not being honest but he isn't upset, a part of him was disappointed that she didn't trust him enough to tell him anything but considering all that happened in the last few days, he couldn't hold on to that hurt. He had to let it go.

"What about Charlie?" Surprising the team, it's Jay that asks the question.

And Hank clarifies his question, "What were some of the terms of the restraining order?"

She erases the board and writes, _no contact and he wasn't allowed to come anywhere near me, my husband or any future kids, he wasn't allowed to own or have a weapon and he had to stay away from my place of work and any property that I own._

"Charlie is on the run," Hank informs her and when her body tenses, he's quick to reassure her, "but you have nothing to worry about because Jay will be staying here. I talked to the hospital. He's your protective detail. Is there anything else you can tell us? I know you don't remember their faces but we're positive he's responsible. Is there a reason you can think of why he felt the need to plan an attack and carry it out?"

 _I can't remember much of what happened that day but before the attack I remember the last time we saw each other, he said he hated me, he said it wasn't the last I'll see of him. He was going to get me back for ruining his family, he said I intervened in his relationship with Annie and was the direct cause of him losing his wife and kid but Voight I'm not responsible for that._

"We know," he's quick to reassure her as he reaches to hold her hand, "you're not responsible for any of this. Charlie wanted revenge. Annie was jealous. Landon felt rejected and humiliated because you chose Jay over him. And Teddy," he takes in a deep breath because that's her brother and his justification for it will hurt the most, "he did it out of loyalty to Charlie. Charlie looked out for him in prison and he returned the favor when he got out."

Erin felt the tears fill her eyes and she did everything humanly possible to keep them in. It didn't work though. They fell hard and fast and Hank rises to his feet to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb, "This won't take away what they did. This doesn't make what they did okay but maybe it'll at least give you some peace to know that Charlie lied to them. He knew he wanted to kill you and he let them think the ambush was simply to scare and intimidate you when he had another goal in mind."

"Okay, Erin needs some rest." Jay asserted because he could tell Erin was on the verge of getting worked up and she didn't need that, not when she's still healing. Fortunately, the team didn't need an explanation, they took Jay's suggestion as law and quickly left her room with a wave and a message of well wishes. It was time for her to get some rest, hopefully some sleep.

 _I'm sorry_ , when his eyes read those words, his face frowns in confusion, _for not doing more to keep our baby safe_ , he immediately begins shaking his head, _I should have protected him more._

"I don't need your apology because none of this is your fault," he removes the whiteboard from her lap and sets it off to the side, "You are not responsible. Nothing justifies this. Absolutely nothing you could have done would make it okay for them to do this."

Erin was laid flat on her back, eyes closed and breathing steady. She didn't even bother to take off the hospital slippers or wait for him to return with another blanket. He walked over to her, lowering his finger beneath her nose to wait to feel the soft murmurs of breath escape from her nostrils to ensure she was breathing. He felt like crying in relief when he saw her chest rise and fall, when he could hear her soft snores reassuring him that she's alive. She's going to be okay.

Slowly and carefully, he pulled the hospital slippers off her feet, setting them down beside her hospital bed so she'll be able to see them if she has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He moves the cane she had received just early this morning closer to her bed, within reaching distance. Erin inhaled a strangled sigh, his chest tightening as he waited with bated breath for her to release it. He grabbed the blanket from his cot, unfolding it and draping it over her body. The thin hospital sheet that they call a cover barely kept the chill from causing her to shiver.

When his head hit his folded-up sweatshirt, using it as a pillow on the cot, he made a vow to himself, -he was going to be patient, he was going to be her support system, her protector and her encouragement. He was going to do everything in his power to help her overcome this, but first they had to find Charlie, first they had to bring him in.

 **A Week Later.**

"I'll see you later. I love you." It was the last words he said to her before he left to meet up with the team. He had been away from work and had decided to return for only a few hours to help bring Charlie in because they found him. She didn't want him to leave but the way he looked into her eyes and firmly said that he needs to be there had her knowing that there was no way she was going to be able to stop him.

Erin has the television on. Helicopters swarm above an abandoned warehouse that Charlie was last seen in, she sees the team, Jay included, approach the building, guns drawn. She feels a shortness of breath and she finds herself needing to be closer, wanting to be there, wanting to help, but since that's so far out of reality, she pushes that idea away. Erin reaches for the cane leant against the table beside her hospital bed, she uses it to steady herself as she climbs out of the bed and slides her feet into the hospital slippers.

All of her friends are there but Mouse. He's here with her, watching nervously and biting his lip and when he suddenly notices that she's no longer lying down, he jumps up to help her. She shakes her head and waves off his assistance. She has it all under control. Yet he doesn't go back to his seat, he stands a few inches away from her just in case she stumbles or falls, he'll be ready to catch her. Jay had asked him to watch after her while he went to be of assistance and since he gave his friend his word, there was nothing or no one -not even Erin- that'll be able to make him step away. She moves the cane forward and slowly moves towards the television hanging in the corner of her hospital room, "He's going to be fine, Erin. All of them will be."

It takes more than an hour. It takes around two hours before something changes, before the team finds an entry point and raids in with backup. She can't see what's going on inside and if she didn't have this weak leg and needed the assistance of the cane, she would have been pacing. Mouse is pacing. She wants to join him but she knows it'll do more harm than good.

Her heart is racing.

Her doctor isn't going to be happy that she's getting worked up.

She probably shouldn't be watching this but her husband, her team is out there and she's not there to watch their backs. She has to make sure they're out.

And after what is the longest half an hour, she sees them emerge. Charlie unconsciously being dragged by Atwater and Rixton with the rest of the team -minus Halstead and Voight- following behind. Panic suddenly settles in her eyes and she whips her head over in Mouse's direction. They must have been thinking the same thing because he's pulling out his cell and attempting to call someone for an answer. No one picks up. Why isn't anyone picking up? She should have been there. She should have done something. She feels her breath increasing in speed and Mouse immediately ditches his phone to come over and settle his hands against her shoulders, "I know it's hard but you need to calm down and breathe. If you keep getting worked up I'm going to have to cut the television off. Come on, just breathe, in and out, slowly." He guides her and she mimics.

Erin feels like the passenger in her own body and someone else is driving it. She had no control over anything. She doesn't have eyes in the building. The news cut the helicopter cameras off and they're now watching and hearing a panel of experts discuss what the public had just witnessed. That's not what she wants to see! She wants to see her husband!

And while she struggles to keep a leveled head, Jay struggles to do the same thing. His knuckles are bloodied from beating Charlie's face in so badly that it knocked him unconscious. This wasn't like him. He doesn't take the law into his own hands but when he heard the taunts, the jokes the man kept calling out to him, he lost it. He pounced and he hit him over and over again until Voight pulled him off. He broke down, knees falling to the ground while loud sobs tore through his body and it was Voight that stooped down next to him, pulling him into his arms and reassuring him that he has everything under control, he'll take care of it all and Jay should go back to Erin.

At the mention of his wife's name, Jay feels a renewed energy. Tears still falling from his eyes. Knuckles are still bleeding. Hands are bruised. But, all of that is second to the pain it feels to be away from his wife, "We're going to let the paramedics look at you first and then you can go."

"But sarg-" He cuts his own words off when he notices the look on Voight's face. This isn't up for debate. And hanging his head low, he heads out, pushing through officers in order to get to the nearest ambulance, stepping up to one with his hands held out to wait for a nod of approval from them. It doesn't need to be bandaged or cleaned yet the paramedic does just that. It only serves to take up more time, it interferes with the time he could be spending with his wife.

As he sits at the back of the ambulance, being forced to calm down by Burgess, his mind runs a mile a minute. Teddy, Charlie, Landon, Lonnie and Annie have all been arrested. Was this too good to be true? Is it all really over? It's a hard concept to believe because there's no one else to hunt down and his wife is still hurt. Beating Charlie's face didn't magically heal her. Arresting all of them didn't take back what they did. He wanted to celebrate but he couldn't find it in him to do so because she was still in the hospital. She was still hurting.

Charlie was arrested though. At least that's something good she can focus on.

An updated headline flashes across the screen, -Five people arrested in connection to the brutal assault of a pregnant detective. It continues to flash, she hears the opinions of law professionals, former judges and attorneys and it's too much for her, especially as a guest psychologist joins the news panel to discuss the possible repercussions that would plague her psyche. They don't know her and she would appreciate it if they stopped acting like they did.

She shuts off the television to ease her nerves. She can't hear strangers talk about her for too long, she really can't hear strangers discuss the events of her case, what happened to her, the people responsible and the motives those guilty felt justified their actions. Erin turns, tightening her grip around the cane and moves back to the bed, Mouse at her side, escorting her until she's at the edge of it. Turning her head slightly, she gives him a small smile as a way of thanks.

"No problem," he squeezes her shoulder. He doesn't leave her side, not until she's back in the bed, the cane resting against the edge of the table and the covers are draped over her legs. And he doesn't leave her room until Jay returns, dressed in his protective gear hinting that he came straight from the scene to the hospital. He's sweating. His eyes are practically bulging out of his head. He rushes over to her bedside, cups her face and presses his lips against hers, he doesn't care about the wires, the cuts, the bandages or the dried blood, he just cares about the feel of her lips against his. She can feel his tears mix with her own because it was over, it was well and truly over.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmurs against her lips. And she fights against the discomfort as she feels every urge to respond, "L-love you t-too." It hurt but she didn't care. She loved this man with every part of her and every day he manages to do something that increases that love.

All of the people who played a hand in her attack were arrested. All of them were charged, all of them had taken plea deals. All of them were charged with two counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of attempted first degree murder -dropped to second degree as a part of the plea deal-, two counts of second degree aggravated assault and battery -the first degree was also dropped as a part of the deal- and Erin couldn't find herself minding too much because the time they do end up receiving during sentencing won't have them out until their of old age.

Annie and Lonnie were the only exception since they offered help in the investigation. Erin had no opinion of that and if she did, she had no interest in sharing it.

"Erin, you should get some sleep," They both should actually; they both deserve it; Erin nodded, she's completely worn out, absolutely exhausted and she knows the second her head touches the pillow, she's going to pass out. Jay's words are so soft, so gentle as he tugs her towards her bed. She wasn't at the plea hearing, she didn't hear them admit guilt, she had no interest in seeing them or giving them the pleasure of seeing what they did to her. She stayed, along with Jay, and her team went to represent her in her honor. With a plea deal, it moves the case quickly through the court system, without it, who knows how long it would be before the case actually made it to trial? It should have taken months but with the pressure of the public, the high priority of the case and how it's made many headlines, the system felt pressured to speed it up, to get a resolution and it was successfully done once she agreed to the plea deal that'll be offered and then once the guilty party accepted the deal as well. She was still in the hospital, most likely not being discharged any time soon and it was so hard to believe that the investigation was over. It was actually over and done with and now starts another obstacle, -healing.

 **A Month Later.**

It almost felt like this day would never happen. It felt like her dreams were finally coming true, something good was finally happening for her yet why was she so afraid? Maybe it was because of the unknown. She was finally getting discharged from the hospital, she no longer needed the cane and the best part of it all, her jaw was finally free, unwired and healed. She was losing her patience being cooped up in the hospital for so long, it felt like a prison because she hardly had any liberties. She couldn't leave when she wanted, she couldn't eat what she wanted, she had visitors but only between certain hours and if she wanted to leave her room, she needed a nurse to accompany her. But, now that was all finally over.

"Your mouth will probably feel sore for a few days," the doctor began to lay out what to expect now that her jaw is no longer restricted, "your tongue will be dry too so drink plenty of water." It's almost like he read her mind because she was just about to reach for the paper cup filled to the rim with ice cold water that her husband had brought to her from the nurses' station.

After practically drinking the cup of water in one gulp, she smiled gratefully at her husband when he took a hold of it to dispose of it in the trash bin near the door. She was ready to leave. She had stayed long enough but when the doctor pulls up a seat, she expects that she isn't leaving within the next hour at least, Erin sighs because every part of her expects to hear bad news, "So, I just have a few tests I'd like to run," that seems like all she's good for now, -tests, tests and more tests, "fortunately my tests do not involve needles and lab work." At least that was a plus. Jay walks over and takes a seat next to her on the edge of the hospital bed, "Can you bite down for me?"

As instructed, she bites down and by his smile, she assumes she passed that test, "…and swallow," doing as directed she swallows, "Can you give me a big smile?" Her lips pull back to display a grin, "A smile that shows teeth please, I just want to make sure everything is lined up." Her teeth are revealed and silently he goes to jot down a few notes based on his observation, "Does it hurt to bite?" She shakes her head, "Good, does it hurt to swallow?" Once again, she shakes her head, "Great and does it hurt to smile and show teeth?" And for the third time she shakes her head, "Perfect," he rises from his seat to walk over, "I'm going to repeat my questions this time I'll be touching your chin and jawline," he grabs a pair of gloves out of the nearest box and slides them onto his hands, "Bite down for me," his fingers press down right below her earlobe, "Bite down again," she does as instructed then smiles just as wide as he did the first time he asked, "now I need you to swallow," his fingers remain pressed against the same area and he appears pleased with what he feels and sees, "and last but not least smile as big as possible."

Erin stretches the grin across her face as far and as wide as she physically could and Jay chuckles at the result, "You look deranged," and that earns a laugh from all three of them in the room.

"I like what I saw and what I felt," the doctor takes a step back and pulls off his gloves before dropping them in the nearest bin, "now I need to test what I hear," he grabs the chair he previously vacated, "there's so many medical posters in here just read me something off of one."

Her vision never gave her problems so fortunately it wasn't hard to see the words on the poster plastered on the wall across from her, she reads them to herself and then opens her mouth to read them aloud, "I…I-If you d…d-don't want t…t-the flu, here's w-what you s…sh-should do."

It came out like she was a child first learning how to read, the only difference is Erin knows what it says, she knows what she wants to say, she read it in her mind so clearly, so perfectly with so much ease but when it was time to verbalize it, to say it aloud, the wires that are supposed to pass the information from her mind and the thoughts that circulate around her head into actual spoken words had failed her, "W…w-wash your h-ha-hands."

"Does it hurt your jaw when you talk?"

She shakes her head no because she knows her voice will fail her.

"What's going on with her speech?" It's Jay that poses the question, "I thought the stutter came from her discomfort with the wires in her mouth."

Erin has a team of doctors assigned to her care not only because of the daily shift change but because of the varying degrees of injuries inflicted on her body. The doctor that treats her fractured jaw isn't specialized to treat her brain so he rises to his feet and pushes the clipboard beneath his arm, "I'll get the neurosurgeon assigned to her care, he'd be best to speak on it."

And that only prolonged her stay for another two nights because more tests and lab work had to be done and she had a consultation with a speech-language pathologist for an hour on both days, but finally in the late afternoon of the third day, the speech-language pathologist and the neurosurgeon who fixed her brain bleed had walked into the room, both holding clipboards, both with solemn looks on their faces and Erin suddenly looked over at her husband's direction when he reached for her hand, "Whatever they say, we'll figure it out together."

"I know you've been feeling like a guinea pig for over a month because of all of the tests we've been running on you," the neurosurgeon breaks the tension in the room by cracking a joke he'd hope would brighten her day a little. During her entire stay at the hospital, he's been assigned to her care, he's built a rapport with her and while she only met the speech-language pathologist a few days ago, he had hoped that his presence would be enough to comfort her, "I told you a few days ago that even when you're released I want you to come back for follow-up appointments," she nods because she remembers those instructions, "I still want you to do that. I'll give you more info on that before you sign your discharge paperwork."

Jay brings his wife's hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against the back of it before he speaks, "Did you all find out about the cause of the stutter?"

Her neurosurgeon pulls up a seat and offers it to the speech-language pathologist before grabbing another to sit down in it himself, "majority of the impact from the trauma happened to the left side of your brain, primarily focused towards the frontal lobe, there's an area called the Broca that's been injured enough to alter your speech. You might be able to comprehend what's being said but be unable to speak fluently because your brain is having difficulty communicating efficiently to all of the muscles that are needed to form your words. I know you've been frustrated these last few days because you know what you want to say, you just can't get the words out in the way you can think them. We see this in patients who have suffered a stroke, has had a brain tumor, infection in their brain and injury to the brain typically from a gunshot wound or a heavy blow to the head."

She suddenly gets flashes of the attack. It isn't in chronological order, or at least she can't remember if it is because she doesn't recall everything. She knows they dragged her. She knows about being found at the bottom of a hill in the middle of a forest. Who knows what her head hit along the way after she was practically thrown down it?

"…basically, anything that results in the death of brain cells, such as a lack of oxygen or diminished blood flow can cause problems such as this."

A mournful silence fills the room; it's as if she's grieving a loss, the loss of the old her, the loss of her ability to speak, to be normal in whatever way that word is even defined. She wants to ask more questions but she knows how it'll come out, it'll always come out like that. Jay seems to read her mind and with careful consideration, he words his next question with caution, "Is it permanent? The stutter I mean…" Erin bites her lip and looks down into her lap.

"It depends," the speech-language pathologist answers, "sometimes it can improve without any sort of treatment. And sometimes it can't. There's no way to really tell which side you'll fall on but we figured it doesn't hurt to do speech therapy. That's why I'm here. I can't guarantee that the stutter will go away, it does for some people and it doesn't for others, however I can guarantee you that I can help you better communicate and adjust to living with delayed speech," she looks over to Jay, "and I can also give family members tips on what they should do to support their loved one. I also recommend that when you're feeling up to it Erin, you join a support group. A TBI caused stutter isn't the same as the typical speech impediment stutter because yours is mixed with hesitant and delayed speech which makes it come out a little differently. I want to schedule in our first session before you sign your discharge papers. I'm hoping we can start as soon as possible."

Erin doesn't bother looking up. She simply nods her head to imply that she agrees and she understands. All she can do is focus on the pants hugging her legs, finally feeling the fabric of something besides a hospital gown. She slips her tongue out and slides it across her top lip and then the bottom one, -it's cracked. So cracked that she tastes blood. Her tears -ones she didn't even know were present- had fell and dropped to her lips, -she tastes those too. And no one said anything, even before she knew her lips were so cracked that they were bleeding, no one had said anything, they had to have noticed and no one gave her a heads up about it.

"Try to think positively," the doctor says to her as if that's something she can easily attain. It's easier said than done for people and it's even harder for someone like her.

Her baby had been discharged from the hospital a week ago; he's at a healthy weight, he can latch on and feed and he can maintain his internal body temperature. She should have been with him for his first night at home. Erin had missed it; she missed a moment she'll never get back. He was truly a fighter that has overcome a major obstacle while his mother sits in the hospital room alone while Jay walks out with the doctor and the speech-language pathologist. She hears him schedule her appointment. She hears him thank them both for their hard work. She even hears him whisper a question of concern about what he should do, about how he can help her.

"She's still your wife; she's still just as intelligent as she was before the attack. She just has trouble communicating. She's already going to feel insecure about it, the best thing you can do for her is have patience, a lot of it, also you want to make sure you continue to include her in conversations and actively look at her when she's talking." He's so invested into listening, holding onto every word that's being said before the door shuts behind them and he turns to face her.

Finally, she looks up as he walks over, grabbing a few tissues along the way, dabbing them into the pitcher of water before bringing it up to her mouth, "Are you ready to get out of here?" She nods, "I bet Liam misses you. I know you miss him too." She nods again. And he sighs, "Er, I know you're afraid to talk," she shakes her head in disagreement to that assumption, "…then why aren't you speaking then?" She shrugs her shoulders, "It's going to get better. I scheduled you an appointment for speech therapy, it's Monday morning, I think it'll really help."

She shakes her head again, this time so rapidly that he has to stop wiping her mouth, "C…c-can't d…d-drive." It isn't a complete sentence but he doesn't care, he isn't the grammar police and he only assumes she simplifies her language by omitting certain words in order to get her point across as soon as possible. She doesn't want to talk. Not anymore.

"I know," he goes back to dabbing at the dried blood cemented in the cracks of her lips, "I plan to take you," and he knows her so well that he can read the question in her eyes, "I took time off from work, a lot of it actually and Voight signed off on it. He hired Upton and Rixton on temporarily while we're out. They'll keep our desks nice and warm while you heal."

Erin doesn't tell him; she doesn't voice the reality of her situation because she knows it'll probably take her all day. And that might not be an exaggeration. She doesn't bring up her concern, the fear she has that she won't ever be able to return to Intelligence, to law enforcement in general because of her speech, because of her traumatic brain injury, she doesn't know what medical board would sign off on her resuming active duty. It'll be too much of a risk. She would be too much of a liability. A TBI is too unpredictable and they can't hold her spot in Intelligence forever.

"I bet you're ready to get out of here, aren't you?"

She nods. And he sighs disappointedly.

"Erin-"

"…s…s-sleepy." Her word is clipped. It's cut short and straight to the point.

"I see," he whispers, tossing the napkin in the trash bin before extending his hand towards her, "then lets go sign that paperwork, pick Liam up and then head home, okay?" She doesn't want to take his offered hand but she knows that she needs to because she isn't completely healed yet. She had been using a cane to get around and while three days ago was the first day she was given the green light to walk without it, her body was still so sore, so weak and exhausted that she held onto furniture just to be extra cautious in her walk from the bed to the bathroom and then back again.

She walks with a limp, it's minor, and based on the x-ray it's simply due to a gash that was on her ankle. To walk on it irritates the stitches that had been removed a week ago. It's still tender. It's odd because she'd been walking for majority of her life yet being stuck either in a hospital bed or in a wheelchair being pushed around by her husband, Voight or one of her friends in Intelligence for over a month had weakened the strength in her legs. She lost a lot of weight, -surprisingly considering she couldn't exercise but the weight that dropped from her wasn't fat, it was muscle.

"Take your time," he instructed, wrapping his arm through hers, "we're not in a hurry."

That's only because he wasn't the one practically living in a hospital. He got to go home every night. The left side of her body feels weaker than the right, it hurts more than the right but that's because that side received the most damage during the assault.

"Did you want me to sign the paperwork for you?" Jay was being overly cautious, overprotective and very nervous to allow her to do anything. He moved to stand behind her, allowing her to lean back and press most of her weight against him as the nurses slid the stack of paperwork towards them on the counter. She stared down at the words, it's a lot of them, "A…a-lot," he doesn't know what she's talking about until she points down at the paper, "w…w-words."

"It's a lot of words," and when she nods, he smiles at his ability to understand her, "There are a lot. Did you want me to read it to you?" She turns her head, the back of it resting against his shoulder so she can see him better. She looks insulted. Erin knows how to read, she knows how to think, in her head she reads and thinks just as fast as she's always done but it's communicating that to the rest of her body that causes the trouble.

Erin turns back to the discharge paperwork and silently reads it to herself. Maybe she doesn't read as fast as she used to but her mind doesn't stutter. There's no stutter at all when she reads silently. She sees her insurance listed and verifies that it's the correct medical number. She makes her way through each document, reading about all of the tests, the bloodwork and labs she had been through during her stay and she couldn't be anymore happier to leave. The nurse takes the documents back once each sheet is signed, "I also want to give you this information," she slides two pamphlets forward, one is about living with a TBI and the other is requirements and directions on how to file for disability. Does she really need that? Is she actually considered disabled?

During the entire walk from the hospital through the parking garage and to their car, Erin is reading the pamphlet on disability. She reads the one line, the first requirement, -your disability has lasted or is expected to last for at least one year. Is she going to be like this long-term? Her eyes fall to another section in the pamphlet, a question, -Is your condition found in the list of disabling conditions? And immediately she starts to skim the list of conditions, hoping that it wasn't there, practically praying she doesn't find it until she does find it. Traumatic brain injury, it's there for her to read, it's bolded, it's even highlighted, probably by the nurse that gave it to her. There are two characterizations of it and she either has to match the first or second one and when she doesn't match the first one, she smiles because maybe, just maybe, they misdiagnosed her. But, they didn't.

It's an asterisk beside the second characterization, it was marked to let her know which one she fell into because they wanted to make the process of applying as easy as possible. She wasn't going to apply though. She might beat this in under a year. She reads the second description, confused on how she fits into the marked limitation in physical functioning category and Jay appears to read her mind before pointing towards the note that was left at the top of the pamphlet, "you retain some ability to walk, stand and possibly eventually run but you are unable to do it on a consistent and sustained basis without extreme fatigue and body ache."

Her eyes fall to land on the mental functioning part of the second characterization and she only needs to meet one of the four they list but unfortunately, she meets more than one of them. Erin slams the pamphlet shut and throws it to the floor of the passenger seat. She's not applying for that. She's not disabled. There are actual disabled people out there who needs that and she doesn't want to take that away from the next person, from someone doing worse off than her. Erin can't think about it, she's thought about what happened to her enough, she doesn't want to talk about it either and fortunately as Jay's driving he doesn't bring it up, "Do you have any idea on how you want to celebrate finally being free from that place?" Jay is so adoringly sweet and it feels good to smile without the wires restricting her even if her face is still a little bit sore, "dinner? Movie?"

"G…g-go h…h-home."

"You want to go home?" Erin nods and notices the brows on his face furrow, "Why?"

"T…t-tir-"

"You're tired," Jay finished.

And while she didn't appreciate him cutting her off and finishing the word, she nods.

They pick up Liam first. He's at the district being watched by Voight and when he carries his grandson out of the office, the little guy's head rests on his grandfather's shoulder and he's sleeping soundly. His car seat sits on Erin's desk -now Upton's temporary desk- and he starts to buckle him in as his parents watch, "Thanks again for watching him. I know the bullpen probably isn't the best place to watch a baby but we really didn't want to bring him back to the hospital."

"Y…y-yes," she nods, overwhelmed with so much joy at the sight of her son for the first time outside of the hospital that she doesn't notice she's talking and she doesn't even notice that they're all watching, "…t…t-than-"

"She's saying thank you," Jay intercepts her word and for a moment she feels herself putting in more energy to stay focused, to stay in the conversation so she doesn't get confused. He cut her off. He finished her word. It's the second time. And the way he's looking at her, she can tell that it's done out of the kindness of his heart, he thought he was doing her a favor, but even if he means no harm by it, she doesn't like it and if it weren't for those eyes that have a way of peering into her soul, she would have nudged his side.

It's an unanswered question looming in the air. An elephant in the room that's standing practically in the center of the bullpen. They want to ask. Until now, no one has heard her speak after the jaw wires were removed and they thought the stutter was there because of the wires. Jay had only told them she had to stay a few more days for extra tests but he never went into detail.

"It's good to see that smile of yours again," Olinsky whispered, crossing the room to hug her. And even though it impacted her balance, she was in his arms and he wouldn't let her fall. She hugs him back, enjoying the comforting smell that's he carried for all the years she's known him.

"H…h-happy be-"

"I believe she's trying to say she's happy to be back."

Is it going to become a habit now? Initially he didn't do this back at the hospital but that's because she hardly spoke and now he seems to be doing it more often than usual. He said he would be patient and maybe he truly thinks that's what he's doing but that's not what it feels like; it feels patronizing, "D…d-don't do…t-that."

He hadn't noticed the look on her face before but now he sees it as clear as day. The team looks up and over either from watching the baby sleep, performing their respective tasks or taking in how far Erin has come since the attack when they hear the frustration painted on the notes of her voice. She has a headache but that feels like her new normal now. And Jay walks over to brush her hair behind her ear, "You want me to stop doing what?" He's caressing the side of her face, he's looking at her with so much love and affection that's only grown and strengthened the longer they've been friends, partners and married. He truly loves her. She loves him just the same. And she wishes she can see herself through his eyess, maybe get an understanding as to why he's still being so sweet when she hasn't even been released for a day yet and she's already about to cause problems. He honestly meant no harm, and she knows this, so she tries to tone down her frustration.

"I…I-It's h-hard," she's using her hands as she talks, as she feels forced to talk when she's not completely okay with embarrassing herself, "I…I-It's ha-hard," she says that line again, "f…f-for m-me," she stops talking because she's pissed off at herself for not being able to say one sentence clearly. That's all she wants to do, just say one sentence or even one word. She'll take a word over nothing at all. It's only because Kim walked over and starts to rub her back while Jay continues to caress her cheek and peer into her eyes, comforting her without having to say a word that she decides to continue, to just give in to whatever pitying opinions are currently forming in all of their heads, "t…t-to u…u-understand a s…sent-sentence o-or c…c-conversation, b…-but f-for m-me to u…u-understand I h-have to-to be a-able to-to c-come up with a-a s…s-sentence b-but if y-you f-fill in a-a word o-or fi-finish it, I-I s…s-sometimes fo-for-forget what I'm-I'm t...t-trying to say."

Jay brings his other hand up to caress against her other cheek before drawing her in, bringing her closer to press his lips against her forehead, "I'm sorry Er," he's so focused on trying to make sure she doesn't feel insecure or embarrassed about it that he ended up causing her an entirely different type of discomfort. He's trying too hard. He needs to be himself.

This is a lifestyle change for the both of them, especially for Erin. She hopes it'll improve in time but the possibility that it won't, the idea that this will be her for the rest of her life makes her nervous. Every conversation is different for her, sometimes she talks better in one and not the other and that all depends on many variables: background noise, number of people in the conversation, speed in which someone is talking and the amount of patience they're willing to have when talking to her. She's only communicated with people who know her and care for her. She doesn't know how she'll do when she has to finally talk to a stranger, to someone that doesn't know her story.

They don't stay too long after that, using the excuse of getting Liam home as their way out of the district. It's a relief to be away from their looks, their faces, but now she's stuck without a distraction because they're riding home in silence, all she's filled with is the thoughts plaguing her about her condition, about raising a kid in her condition. Maybe it won't make a difference? Or maybe it will? Maybe he'll get bullied because there's something wrong with his mom? Maybe she needs to get out of her head. And fortunately, when Jay breaks her thoughts by announcing their arrival, another smile takes over her mouth and she reaches to take the keys from him.

She missed being home.

She missed her bed.

She missed a nice, homecooked meal.

Erin limped towards the front door of their apartment; the baby fast asleep in the car seat Jay is holding by the handle waiting patiently for her to unlock the door. She's holding his keys, staring down at her opened palm before looking up at the door knob. She looks back down at the keys before looking up at the knob again, "Er," he whispers but she simply shushes him and continues concentrating on the keys, he has way too many keys. She selects one at random and before she has the chance to insert it into the bottom lock, he's shaking his head, "That goes to our gun safe."

"I…I-I k-knew th-that." She whispered, head hanging low causing her hair to curtain around and hide her face from him. He doesn't want to be concerned but when she looks back at his keys, staring blankly at them, his anxiety rises to new heights.

"That goes to my locker at Antonio's gym," he says so low that he thought Erin hadn't heard, that is until she drops that key before attempting to give it a try, "I can do it if-"

"I…I-I ha-have it-it all u…u-under con-control!" She snaps; her animosity, frustration and anger combining together to redden her face, swivel her head around to look in his direction and roll her eyes, "I…I-I know h-how t-to do t…t-this!"

"I know you do babe. And if anything, I can just point out the key to the top lock and the one to the bottom, that's all, promise. You can do the rest." Suddenly his memory flashes back to when she was in the hospital, when she couldn't recall the password to his cell, when she stared at his phone with the same blank expression she's now wearing while staring at the keys.

"Y…y-you ha-have s-s-so many k-keys?"

"Gun safe, locker, my car, your car, our apartment, my dad's house, Voight's place and I know I'm probably forgetting a few but they're not coming to mind right now."

Erin looks back down at the keys all connected to one key ring while spread out on her palm. She feels her eyes grow watery because she always thought the confusion was a result of the medication they used to induce her into a coma working its way out of her body and maybe that did have a little to do with it but the rest of it came from her brain injury. She watched a tear drop escape and land onto one of the silver keys, "T…t-this s…s-should b-be e-easy!" He reaches his empty hand out to tap the correct key; he'd only locked the bottom lock so fortunately she didn't have to worry about locating two individual keys. She grabs the selected key and stuck it into the lock with such ease that he knew the action itself wasn't hard, she knew what to do with the key, fortunately her body was on autopilot and her natural, routine actions didn't require any forethought.

The second they stepped into their house, for the first time together in weeks, he expected Erin to take her time and take in everything but her attention wasn't drawn to their home, it was drawn back to the keys in her hand, "T…t-the d-doctor s-said I…I-I'm do-doing g-good con-considering w…w-what hap-happened," her face morphs from a look of confusion to a look of betrayal as if the keys themselves had intentionally set out to trick her, "W…w-why did they dr-drop me off th-the hill? They k…k-kicked my h-head a lot. A lot. I-I know they wan-wanted to hurt me, b…b-but why cou-couldn't they leave m-my head alone?" She couldn't even appreciate being back inside as much as she wanted, she was too disappointed, too confused about what just happened.

He flashes back to seeing her on that ground in the forest, the left side of her head swollen, covered in gashes, scratches, bruises and blood and he should have been prepared for lasting damage. He should have been more prepared, he should have done more research, he should have known she wouldn't wake up, be discharged and be perfectly okay, healthy and back to her old self.

Erin limps over to the couch just as the baby wakes up. She hasn't regained her full strength yet, it's hard to maintain it when you're stuck in a hospital bed for over a month. She sits and Liam cries and for the first time ever she holds him in their home, she adjusts her shirt and he latches on with such expertise from his time practicing with the bottle. He fits perfectly in her arms, he's just the right size and she finds herself enchanted by his eyes, by the way he's looking up at her. He doesn't know what happened but one day he'll find out. And she hopes that he'll never look at her differently, she wants him to see a strong woman, a role model, not some person that was hurt so badly that she's forced to live with possibly lifelong repercussions.

She feels Jay take a seat next to her, raise her legs to plant her feet on his lap and he starts to massage them, it's kind of reminiscent back to the days she was pregnant. It's a memory, a happy one and the first month she's home, she adjusts with the changes, she appreciates his patience and she enjoys spending every precious moment with her kid, watching him change and his features develop more and more with each day that passes in the month. She has a visitor every day, either Voight or someone from the team and she appreciates the company because it offers her mind a distraction. Erin lets them talk, wanting to live vicariously through them since she's not working and they're always happy to appease her. She doesn't talk as much, not in public and not in private, the most words she says are with her speech-language pathologist as they practice sentences.

Erin's an adult, practicing pronunciation and saying sentences as if she were in grade school. It's a month later and she's reminded every day to take her time, to not rush things but her son is growing up so fast and Jay keeps putting off when he's going to return to work because he doesn't want to leave her alone. Every night, he massages her ankles, the limp slowly healing with the aid of a physical therapist that she's started seeing in the middle of the month. She was so happy to leave the hospital yet she's forced to go back Mondays for speech therapy, Wednesdays for her psychiatrist appointment and across the street on Fridays for physical therapy. She gains a little of her muscle back with his help and she can also put more weight down on the leg with the limp but it seems now that after only a couple of sessions the leg isn't trying to perfect itself and the left side of her body that always feels so weak seems to be gaining mobility, strength and movement. Her coordination and balance have improved but the dull ache she gets when lifting her arms above her head remains persistent. It's only been a month later, she's made progress on her body and not her speech but Jay greets her every morning with breakfast, a smile, a kiss and the reassuring words of "take your time, there's no rush." And she's now adopted that to be her own motto, one that she finds herself saying to herself yet not believing.

 **Six Months Later.**

Erin knows the tears forming in her eyes are a result of her frustration rather than the strain she feels in the lower portion of her leg. She wants all of her mobility back, despite what the doctor says, she wants it all back. Even if she's had major improvement in the strength of her leg, even if she can walk with only a slight limp that appears when she's standing or walking for longer than ten minutes. She wants to jog again. She wants to chase down criminals eventually. She needs this to work and be successful and her physical therapist told her that she can do anything she puts her mind to while her doctor gives her the reality check that she should probably start listening to in order to avoid feeling disappointed when she doesn't get her desired results.

The brain apparently controls and sends messages to everything. Moving a body part involves the communication between the muscle and the brain. She's not a physician and she hardly knows the inner workings of the body but what sticks in her head is the list of what she can't do and the list of what she'll most likely never be able to do again, -jogging for long periods of time is one of them. She's considered lucky because she survived, her baby is healthy, she can talk -although it's stuttered and delayed- and she can walk -even though it's with a slight limp and not for long periods of time without discomfort. She's reminded that people can die from a TBI, she's reminded that she could have suffered worse than what she's already dealing with and while she knows it's told to her to make her feel better, it always fails to do so, instead, it only makes her feel lousy, like why does she have the right to complain, to cry and be hurt and frustrated when someone else has it worse? In the history of everything, there's always someone that's worse off. She knows it's spoken to her with good intentions, to encourage gratitude and positive thinking but it doesn't take away from the fact she wakes up every day and has to deal with her speech, her poor concentration and muscle weakness. She's sad for them but that doesn't take away from her own experience.

"You're doing amazing, Erin," her physical therapist compliments, "now let's do a set of three single leg squats," he begins setting a small red ball down in front of her, a green ball to the side of her and a blue ball diagonal to her, "now when you do your squat, don't forget to tap the ball with the foot of the leg that you're not using to support your weight."

Erin rarely, if ever, speaks when she's at an appointment. When Jay has the chance to join her, she lets him do it for her. In all the time she's had to work on her speech and the very little improvement that's come from it, she's learned the art of silence. She simply nods her head, extends her hand to grab on to the bar and then bends her weak leg while extending her strong one to tap the front ball. It isn't easy. That much is seen by the strained expression on her face but her physical therapist applauds her for not giving up. It's the ball to the side that proves to be even more difficult and it's the one diagonal to her that seems to be her downfall because the second she squats on her bad leg and extends her good one to tap the ball, she stumbles and falls, hand slipping off the bar and knees landing on the mat. Despite his encouragement, she doesn't get up right away. Instead she stares down at her hands, spread palm open on the cushion and she shuts her eyes, "I know you're ready to get out of here. The sooner you finish your set, the sooner you can head out."

That's encouragement enough because she uses the bar to help herself up before retaking her earlier position. Erin shuts her eyes and focuses on the sound of his voice. She hears him counting. She hears him whisper encouragement. And when her weak leg trembles during the squat, she tightens her hold around the bar and groans out of exerting so much energy as she extends the leg until it taps the ball so hard, causing it to roll away, "Good job," he claps. He moves into her line of sight and she opens her eyes to see him tucking his hands in his khaki pants, "You're doing really well, Erin. You've made so much progress in all the months we've worked together," sometimes she thinks he says certain things in the hopes that she'll talk but when she doesn't his shoulders sag forward and he nods, "I think in a few more weeks you'll be able to do this without straining and using the bar for support. Alright, I'll see you next week. Don't forget to do the arm and leg exercises I showed you, I want you to do them at least three times a day."

Erin takes a seat on the mat to put on her shoes. She hasn't attempted to stand and put them on in months, not after trying and falling forward, bumping her head against the doorknob. She can't afford anymore falls or any more injuries. And it might have seemed like something so minor but for someone like her, still healing, anything can delay or set her progress back. She doesn't want to risk it. And if she could have padded walls in her home then she'd probably go for it.

"Hey," she looks up when she sees Jay crawl onto the mat to join her, "How was therapy?"

She ties her shoes while trying to formulate the simplest answer possible, "G-good." Her hands, they've completely healed, no scars or blemishes present. Her nails were cleaned, no longer bloodied or filled with dirt, but now manicured and painted a pastel pink. Her toes are the same color.

"Does," instead of verbally saying what he's about to refer to, he lifts his hand and slides it against the side of her body, from her shoulder on down to her foot, "still feel weak?"

She can't answer that with a simple yes or no. To answer that requires more words, "N…n-not as mu-much as it-it u…u-used to," she shrugs nonchalantly but he knows it still bothers her. She's still healing though and every professional she sees either for her mental health or physical health reminds her that she can't rush the process. She's made many improvements, she should focus on that, but it was easier said than done.

Erin begins to tie the shoe on her other foot, staring down at the strings because she doesn't want to look up to meet her husband's eyes. He's been amazing in all of this, so patient, so kind and she feels like such a burden. She can't go jog with him in the morning and now that they have the baby, he'll push him in the stroller while jogging and Erin isn't able to join. She doesn't go up and down stairs as fast as she used to and when Jay may ask her to bring him something, she'll start to get it and he'll change his mind because she's taking too long. He wouldn't tell her that but she knows it's the truth. Another one of her many follow-up appointments happen to fall on the same day as her physical therapy which she doesn't mind because the buildings are directly across from each other. She's due for another brain scan to check activity to ensure there is no ruptures and check the status of the swelling. She hates all of these words, all of these feelings of incompetence.

Jay hops to his feet and extends his hand to offer Erin assistance in getting up. She doesn't take him up on his offer. Instead, she grabs onto the bar and uses it to pull herself up, completely missing the look of disappointment and insecurity that crosses his own face. He looks away when she looks over, he doesn't want her to feel bad, to blame herself for him feeling like he's not helping her as much or as good as he should be as her husband. He paints a smile onto his face and throws his arm around her shoulders, "Are you up for walking across the street or do you want me to drive?"

She doesn't feel like walking but she knows it wouldn't hurt.

"…w…w-walk."

Jay smiled against her lips after capturing them in a heated kiss. He squeezes her waist and buries his face into her hair, taking in the calming whiff of her shampoo. He missed this smell and he'll never tire of it, not after being forced to deal with the smell of dried blood for more weeks than he can count when she was stuck in the hospital.

He kisses the top of her head and leads her out of the room, through the lobby and out of the building. It was a beautiful day out. And that seemed to brighten her mood tremendously, that is until they step into the lobby of the hospital and physically bump into her mother. What were the chances of this happening? Erin hadn't answered any of her calls or texts. She blocked her. And she hasn't seen her since the trial and hasn't spoken to her since before the attack.

"Long time no see," Bunny grins, throwing her purse around her shoulder, "I've been trying to reach out to the both of you. What are you doing here?"

"Doctor's appointment," Jay answered vaguely. He turned his head and pressed his lips against her forehead and while Bunny didn't know the details, she could assume based on that action the doctor's appointment was for her daughter rather than her son-in-law.

"You look good," Bunny says it as a compliment, "You seem fine to me."

Her mother meant no harm by her words but that didn't lessen the blow the impact of her words had on her because she has a brain injury -a TBI as they call it- and while every morning she wishes that she could snap her fingers and be back to normal, that was absolutely impossible and six months after the accident, Erin was still coming to terms with that. She seems fine to a lot of people but she isn't; she's still trying to come to terms and accept all of the invisible signs of her brain injury and their new role in her life, -the concentration problems, the depression and anxiety.

It's already hard to express that without the speech difficulties, but adding that to the mix made it nearly impossible, "I-I," she takes a deep breath because the frustration comes so easily when she knows what she wants to say but has all of the trouble in the world in saying it, "I-I a-am," she taps her fingers against her thigh, tears springing to her eyes and refusing to let them fall when she notices the look that crosses her mother's face, "n…n-not f-fi-fine." Erin finds relief when she manages to finish her statement. She looks over to Jay, he's smiling at her, looking like a proud husband and she would thank him for his support if it wouldn't take her five minutes to do it.

"Whoa," her mother chuckles, eyes wide in amusement and disbelief, "damn Erin; they really messed you up. Are you always going to be talking like that?"

"N…n-no-not fu-fun-funny," Erin spats; this is a new insecurity for her and for her mother of all people to find such humor in it is fucking sick. Her head isn't okay; there was damage done to the part of her brain that affects her speech. She might get better, she might not and it's the unknown that has her afraid. If she doesn't get better, she doesn't go back to work. Erin doesn't know how to fix this and while she has been in speech therapy, it didn't feel like it was offering much help.

Erin struggles with fluency and the articulation of her words the most. Her speech flows in either a stutter, a delay or a combination of both. And she knows what she wants to say, but the problem is, she doesn't know how to say it. How does she get it out in the same way that she thought it? Her language and comprehension are fine; she understands what she reads and she typically understands what she hears if more than one person isn't talking at the same time and they're not talking too fast. Her literacy wasn't impacted and if anything, over these last few months it may be even better than it was before the attack since reading, spelling and writing have been her way to avoid speaking. Her social communication is unaffected, along with her voice, feeding and swallowing.

It's just her fluency and articulation, Erin constantly reminds herself any time after she attempts to participate in a conversation. She just needs more time than others to speak her piece. And the people who are patient with her, who don't get upset or make jokes -at least to her face- are the people that know her, that understand and are aware of why she is this way. All of them, with apparently, the exception of her mother, are patient and kind. Strangers, as least the mature ones, are even more compassionate towards her than her own mother despite them most likely assuming she's always had a stutter and didn't develop it after an attack that left her near death. She doesn't speak about what happened to strangers in the hopes that they won't tease her because they feel bad for her, she just hopes they won't tease her simply because that's the wrong thing to do.

"It's a little funny," her mother smiles; her daughter's feelings are obviously being overlooked because Bunny can never apologize or admit when she's wrong, even in this situation.

Erin takes a deep breath, "I…I-If y-you," she takes a pause because she's really trying to say this as confidently as possible; she's thinking of what she learned in speech therapy and she's trying to apply it but it's so hard when this is a real conversation and not a practiced one, "know m-me," another breath is taken and her fingers start to tap against the side of her leg, "and und-unde-understand," it's a longer word, and longer words are much more difficult for her to say, "that I do that," a part of her feels overwhelmingly happy that she actually got four words out without a delay, "then y-you'd ha-have no prob-problem with," she stops because her brain has been working overtime just to send the signal of transferring these words from her mind to her mouth, "it." She finishes. And everything she said, no matter how it came out, whether stuttered, hesitant or delayed was the truth. Her true family and friends know what to expect when talking to Erin, they talk slower so her brain can keep up and process everything they said and they're encouraging when it's her turn to participate in the conversation, but it's people like Bunny, who knows what happened to her but fail to be patient or accepting of the changes in Erin, or it's strangers who have absolutely no idea what happened to her and think she's challenged or has developmental delays that don't understand, that want to rush her along, fill in the words for her or end the conversation as soon as possible and that only manages to do more harm than good. She doesn't like that.

She hates when people try to correct her speech. She hates when people repeat words for her. She can hear, that's never been an issue. Her IQ didn't go down. She's not an idiot. All of this has become such a pet peeve of hers after the incident. Erin knows she has trouble talking, she doesn't need to be reminded. She'll always have trouble with her speech but there are still some improvements she can make with it. It may not go back to the way it was before the attack but at least it can improve from how it's been right after the jaw wires came off. She's trying to better herself, never missing a follow-up appointment, a speech therapy session, a psychiatrist appointment or a physical therapy session in all these months has to count for something.

"Even if what happened caused that, it's been months now, almost a whole year, you should definitely be back to normal by this point, Erin. Are you at least trying to get it fixed?"

"Bunny, it's not that simple," Jay interjects; he usually would let Erin face her battles but things are different now and Erin's emotions are so intertwined with her brain right now that it can literally hinder the speed of her thoughts and her words. He didn't like when Erin got upset before the attack and he hates it even more now, "She's trying but there's no magical switch."

"Maybe she's not trying hard enough?"

"Who are you to say she isn't trying hard enough? You haven't seen her in months. You don't know her enough to even make a statement like that. You don't know what she deals with every day, you don't see the progress whether big or small she's made, you don't know what the hell you're talking about Barbara," he calls her by her government name, forgoing the nickname since they're not friends, he only called her that to be nice, but nah, not anymore. Jay feels Erin turn inwards in his arm, her chest pressing against his as her arms wrapped around him in a hug and the gesture instantly calms him down, "Healing isn't a race Bunny, it takes time."

Erin wants to shout at her mother but she doesn't because it's not worth it. Why waste time arguing a point that she'll never understand? This injury is different for everyone, that much she's learned during the few group sessions she's attended over the months. For her, because she's the only one she can speak for, it feels like she's screaming at the top of her lungs but no one is capable of either hearing her or understanding her.

"Why are you even speaking for her? The Erin I know doesn't need anyone to talk for her."

"I…I-I'm he-here," Erin growls, turning away from Jay to face her mother, "g-give me-me time!" She can feel her husband's hand rub soothing circles into her back.

He moves his head to rest against the side of hers, his lips pressed against her scalp and she can hear his whisper and feel his lips move as he says, "Take your time babe. There's no rush."

"L…l-life b-back, w-won't h…h-happen." Sometimes she omits certain words because it takes extra time and effort for her to form and speak a complete sentence properly.

"…because you're not trying hard enough. I'm pretty sure this isn't permanent."

"How would you know? What schooling do you have to support that?"

Erin doesn't wait around to hear her mother's explanation to his question. If she waited any longer then she'd be late to her appointment and she would prefer to not meet with her doctor in such a sour mood. If her mother doesn't get it and doesn't even want to try to get it, she's not going to bother explaining it. It'll all literally take up so much of her time considering it isn't a simple explanation and her stutter will prolong any word or sentence for her. How would Bunny Fletcher know how hard her daughter has been pushing herself? She's never missed a scheduled appointment regardless of how she felt because she wanted her life back. She was determined to get it back. But, with that determination and that hope brought forth disappointment every time her absence from work increased. She wanted to be back in the field, wielding her badge and assigned weapon, but in order to do that she'll have to pass not only a psych evaluation but a physical fitness one too.

She isn't worried about the first, but the latter has her concerned.

Even after the appointment, the brain scan and lab work, and hearing that her results are progressing as expected doesn't lessen her concern. She's getting better, but her definition of better isn't the same as her doctor's definition. If it isn't life threatening, if it isn't causing her physical pain then he considers that a positive, it's a better result, and she gets why, but for her, better is back to her old self before the attack. Stuttering doesn't cause physical pain and her doctor has no control over improving that, only she and her speech therapist can work on that. Her doctor has no control over her regaining muscle mass and strength in her leg either, only her and her physical therapist can work on that. Her husband is happy for the results, she is too, but she can't help but feel some type of hurt over knowing that when she's ready to return to work, she won't be able to because there's no way she's going to pass the physical evaluation.

 **One Year Later.**

"I've already said it like three times. How many times do I have to tell you, Erin?!"

Sometimes patience runs out. Sometimes you react and you shout and you get angry and for Jay that time has seemed to come. It was just directed at the wrong person. He had a rough day at work, a case that was so similar to his wife's attack, but the only difference was the victim didn't make it. Fortunately, her baby did and he's currently being treated at Chicago Med. It all hit so close to home. And while he was so happy for Erin reaching out and meeting with Dr. Charles, he forgot to reach out himself. He should have talked to someone but instead he kept it in and focused on being the best father and husband. And to kick his sour mood into overdrive Voight had pulled him into the office to inform him that Erin didn't pass her physical or oral exam. Everything else, she passed. Voight intercepted the letter of her results, having it sent to him because for the chance that she failed, he didn't want her finding out alone or through words on a page.

Erin won't be coming back to Intelligence and she doesn't even know it yet.

And somehow, he got stuck with telling her.

"I…I-I d-don't know," she exclaims because that's the damn truth. She didn't ask him to repeat himself to make a joke or try to be funny; it's because she's trying to process not only his words but the meaning behind it and what she has to do to fulfill his request. He spoke so fast and low when he asked her to do him a favor that she couldn't hear him. He repeated himself, this time a little louder but much faster. She couldn't decipher his words. And then he repeated himself for a third time but this time it was so loud and so fast that all of his words blended together in her head, "I-I try," her speech has improved exponentially considering that she still has the stutter and the delay but when she's not worked up and she's calm and takes her time, she could get a sentence out that may have on average two or three stuttered words. However, if she's high on emotion, the entire sentence comes out stuttered, and the delay in her speech worsens, "I t…t-try."

At the sound of her stutter, he looks over at her, heartbreaking at the sight of her because he'd promised himself that he'd be patient but in a moment of frustration and anger that wasn't meant for her, he snapped. He should know better. And when he reaches out to take her hand, she pulls away, "I-I s…s-should," she gives up on trying to put it all together into one sentence and simply points upstairs and whispers, "b…b-baby."

"You should check on the baby," he puts the sentence together for her and then suddenly remembers his mistake. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, "damn it, I just can't seem to say anything right, I'm sorry, Erin." She doesn't want him constructing her sentences for her. She doesn't want him finishing her sentences either, "I didn't mean to do that. I just forgot."

"I k-know what that's l…l-like." She's calming down.

"I'm sorry."

She shakes her head because she doesn't want that, she doesn't want an apology.

"What h-happened?" She wants an explanation.

He doesn't answer right away but she doesn't rush him. She's learned patience too. She doesn't want to be rushed so she makes sure she doesn't rush others. And after a few minutes, he reaches into his back pocket and withdraws an envelope, "Your results," he whispers, wagging the paper in the air, "Voight got it and he gave it to me." He makes no move to offer her the envelope.

"I-I didn't p…p-pass."

"I'm sorry Er."

"I-I don't g…get it. I-I don't u…u-understand."

She doesn't break down into tears like he expected. Instead she stands tall, shoulders firm, in an effort to keep herself composed. She wants to cry; he can tell that much. She has every right to cry; no one would judge her. All Erin has known as an adult was law enforcement. She overcame a lot as a child, had help clearing her record and worked her way up the chains in order to join the Intelligence Unit only for something out of her control to end her dreams so abruptly.

"T…t-they r-really took e-everything fr-from me."

Erin reaches for the envelope and he hands it to her. She needed to see the results herself. And she reads the words, so textbook and straight to the point. The first line is the conclusion. All of the following paragraphs are the reasons that led them to make that decision. She looks up to her husband and balls up the paper, walking into the kitchen to dispose of it before heading into the baby's room. She sees him standing in his crib, holding onto the railing as his dirty blonde hair appears messy and ruffled from his late afternoon nap.

"Babe," he follows after her, "I spoke to Voight. He wants to bring you in as a receptionist."

She's happy that she hadn't reached into the crib to pick Liam up yet because she would have dropped him, "What?" It comes out so clearly.

"…a receptionist. You know he's been looking for someone for a minute."

"That's n-not s…s-something I-I want."

"You want to work," he states and she nods in agreement, "and you want to come back?"

"Yes," she exclaims, face twisting in confusion, "b…b-but n-not as a s-secretary!"

Her hair nearly hits him in the face when she turns around to lift their son out of his crib. She settles him against her hip and then walks out of the nursery, "Erin, I told you not to get your hopes up. Your doctor, psychiatrist and speech therapist did too. I know you wanted to come back, I'm sad about that too, but the headaches-"

She turns around so fast her bad leg nearly gives out, but Jay reaches out to steady her, "Headaches," she repeats, "e…e-e-everyone has h-headaches!"

"Everyone doesn't have them due to a brain injury. And it wasn't just the headaches Erin. I wish you read the report before you threw it away. I think if you did, you'd understand. You have made so much progress in the year, you've exceeded expectations. They were concerned also about the confusion and-"

"E-everyone gets c…c-confused s-sometimes!"

"Short and long-term memory didn't raise any red flags. Neither did concentration, energy and emotional regulation. You did really well in all of that." He attempts to lessen the blow by telling her of what she did right but she waved all of that away. She still failed.

"You d-don't u…u-understand."

"Er, I won't tell you if you don't want to know. I just thought to help you understand why they reached that decision that I'd break it down for you. Do you want me to finish?" When she nods, he does just that, "the headaches, confusion and your ability to process a lot of information at once raised concerns especially considering you want to be in the action where those decisions have to be made quickly. And also your leg," he nods towards it, "it's regained strength and you can definitely walk and jog but your speed, they don't want to take the risk of reinjury, same for your documented concussion and your speech, they're worried about it causing problems when we're in an intense situation, such as shouting orders or giving one of us a heads up about a threat."

Erin gets it, she understands why she didn't pass. It still hurts though. During her entire recovery, she pushed herself harder because her goal was to return to law enforcement. Now she can't. And she doesn't want to be a receptionist but she accepts the job anyway because she's ready to get out of the house and she's even more ready to be surrounded by her friends and laugh at their stupidity.

She was going to try it out, maybe being a receptionist won't be as bad as she thinks, maybe she won't miss being as active as much. She'll message Voight, most likely start at the beginning of next week and she'll give it a few months before deciding if that's even something she wants to do. Does she want to tie herself to a desk for the next thirty years? She holds on tightly to her kid and continues on her way, she's going to play blocks with him and use the rest of the week to come to terms with just another lifestyle change. It has taken longer than usual but finally after a year of hospital visits and therapy, she will be back at work. She finally has a start date. That's something she can admit that she's happy about, she's going back to work.

And that first day, waking up early, leaving her kid for the first time at daycare and then walking through the doors of the precinct for the first time in a year as a receptionist and not a detective was hard. Her husband is at her side, quietly and patiently watching her take in her surroundings through an entirely new and different light, "Welcome back Lindsay," Platt greets below the banner dangling above her desk. She hadn't even made it up to Intelligence yet and she's already received such a warm welcome with officers shouting out compliments, sergeants approaching to shake her hand and detectives patting her on the shoulder and welcoming her back.

"T-thank…you," her stutter isn't dominant; it's improved so much that she hardly does it, but what's left is the hesitant speech pattern that unfortunately won't improve no matter what she does, "this…is…s-s-o sweet and I-I…a…a-appreciate…it." Platt moves around her desk to envelope Erin in her arms, hugging her and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Erin simply shoots off a confused look in Jay's direction and all he can do is shrug his shoulders. This is something he couldn't rescue her from, Platt was intimidating, and it seems that she missed Erin's presence here almost as much as he did, "It's good to have you back. It's good to see those dimples too."

No one stares at the scars. It's a large one on the side of her head, the one that needed stitches, and no amount of ointment or cream has made it disappear, it's only a little faded yet still very pronounced and it serves as a constant reminder of her brain injury, of the fact that while it has definitely improved, Erin's speech will never, ever be the same, it'll never be back to normal and that's something that both her psychiatrist and her speech therapist had to help her to accept.

"G…g-glad…to-to be…k-kind of…back."

Platt nods and goes back to stand behind the desk before nodding for the couple to go on and head on up to Intelligence, "Don't leave without seeing me. I have to see some pictures of the baby."

Erin smiles thinking of her little guy; his first birthday was a few weeks ago and while Erin was still overwhelmed with hospital and therapy appointments, she still wanted to do something special because while he wouldn't remember his first birthday, to them, this was more than just the celebration of his first year, it was a celebration of his survival and based on the amount of toys currently in his bedroom, it was a party that definitely lived up to its purpose.

Jay's hand settles against her lower back, "Come on babe," he presses a kiss against her cheek before steering her towards the stairs, "I've missed my partner."

"T…t-technically," she says it so casually, so normally that for just half a second, she thought everything was back to how it should be, "I'm…n-not…y-your…p-partner," and then she continues her sentence and is reminded once again about failing her medical and oral exam, "I'm…n-no…one's…p…p-partner. N-not," her rising emotions triggered her worsening stutter, "n-not a…a-anymore."

"You'll always be my partner."

"U…U-Upton…is-is…y-your…p…p-p-partner…now." And that's because Voight hired her on. Erin wants to dislike the woman for taking her spot in Intelligence, for becoming the partner to her husband but at the same time, she appreciated her for working with the team to solve her case. She was emotionally torn and those feelings felt amplified when it's impacted by her TBI.

With her hand at the small of her back, he guides her up the stairs and the fact that she doesn't hear talking, raises suspicion. She stops just as her foot brushes against the third step and then turns her head to squint her eyes at her husband, "A-are…they…p…p-planning…a-a surprise?" All he could do was chuckle which answered her question. She didn't want one but she knew at this point there was nothing she could do to stop it. All she could do was get it out of the way.

And that she did by taking a deep breath and continuing up the stairs, using the railing for support just out of habit rather than because she actually truly needed it. She hears the shouts of surprise; she sees the banner hanging above her new desk to welcome her back. She hears Ruzek cheering extra loud and clapping as if she's done something extraordinary. All she did was return to work. And it's technically not even the job she left, it's practically a demotion since her pay decreased.

Atwater swoops her up into a hug, squeezing his muscular arms around her so tight that it did become hard for her to breathe but she was finding herself too happy by the joy on all of their faces to even care about that. Maybe returning wasn't such a bad idea no matter the context? Maybe the idea of this surprise welcome back gathering wasn't such a bad idea either? She's led to her desk by Kim who appeared overexcited to have her back, "I cleaned the desk, organized it, I bought all of your favorite junk food and I even did this," she opens the top drawer and withdraws a framed photo, it's of Liam and if Erin didn't fear she'd drop the frame, she would have taken it from her.

"Beautiful," she says the word without a hint of a stutter.

"I hope you like it."

She's calm enough now to take it, "L…l-love it."

It's her first day and it starts out so well with the celebration but then reality sets in when the team gets a new case and everyone besides her and Mouse depart from the bullpen. She's left at her desk when she has the urge to go along with them, "Hey," she looks up to see Mouse staring at her, "hanging back here is not so bad. We don't have Voight breathing down our neck. We can listen to music, stream a movie or show, catch an early lunch, play a round of cards, and so much more. If you think of something you want to do, I'd definitely figure out a way to make it happen."

She doubts that. She wants to join her team. He has no power there.

But, she sucks it up. She acts like the perfect receptionist: answering phone calls, faxing documents, making copies of paperwork, filing cases and sorting mail. It was tedious. It was something she couldn't do for the rest of her life. So when the team leaves the unit again after gearing up to make a bust, she uses the time to search a list of law enforcement related careers. That was her passion. She wouldn't rest or find a semblance of peace unless she did something at least in the same sphere of what she used to do.

 **Four Years Later.**

This time around she appreciated every moment of her pregnancy. This time she didn't complain once at the pain in her lower back, at the amount of weight she gained, at her body's constant state of exhaustion or even at the bout of morning sickness that hit her everyday of her first trimester. It was a different appreciation, one Erin didn't fully grasp during her first pregnancy and now that she's edging the last week of her third and final trimester, she realizes that she never made it this far the first time. She never made it to this week. This was her second baby, her second pregnancy and her second labor yet she had nothing to compare it to because her third trimester was cut short and she was in a coma when she had to get an emergency caesarean section.

"Babe," the love of her life calls out and it takes all of the energy inside of her to pull her eyes away from her overly round stomach to find him standing at the doorway, their five year old son settled and content on his back, his little arms wrapped around his dad's neck, "your son used the dimples against me," and that seems to be a running theme in his and Liam's relationship once their son realized he had the power of his mom's dimples to bend his father to his whim.

"…and," she holds the smile on her face despite the insecurity that always rises within her when it's time for her to speak, "w-what did…he want?"

Jay readjusts their son on his back before walking further into their bedroom. He's smiling, he's looking at her stomach and Liam is too, "…to go to the movies."

Erin moves closer and extends her hand to ruffle through her son's brunette hair, "You need a-a haircut," and as expected, he shakes his head in disagreement, "y-yes," she rebuts and while his dimples work on her husband, they didn't work on her, "dad's go-going to take you to-to get your hair cu-cut and the-then to the movies af-afterwards."

"You don't want to come?" Jay tilts his head. And Erin simply shakes hers, "Why not?"

"I-I get un-uncomfortable…sitting for long p-periods o-of time." And to be honest, she wouldn't mind a little break. She loved her husband and son dearly but she's exhausted and she's already looking forward to the moment they leave so she can enjoy a quiet house. And with the way her son's energy is set up, she doesn't have to rush them out the door because Liam is already doing that for the both of them. He's on his own two feet now and he's pulling at his dad's jeans, rushing him, pleading with him to come on because the sooner he's done getting his hair cut, the sooner he can get to the movies. It's a dad and son date before the new baby comes, before their second son joins the dysfunctional Halstead family. A part of her feels like she's being blessed with a do over, maybe, not exactly since this doesn't erase her first pregnancy or what she experienced. If anything, she wants this to replace the bad memories of how her last pregnancy ended with good ones and a new baby, her little Logan -as named by her little Liam- will do just that.

"Hold on kid," Jay laughs and Liam's too overwhelmed and excited to hear anything besides his own voice whining for his dad to hurry up. Jay pays him no mind though. It's never too early to teach a kid patience and apparently today is the first course of the semester, "I'll keep my phone on," he turns to his wife, closing in the small gap between them to press his hands against her tummy, "if you need me for anything… _anything_ at all, just call me. I'm serious Er."

"I'm a-a big girl," she jokingly rolls her eyes but she appreciates his concern.

"I know but," he bites his lip while struggling to come up with the right words to say. It's just he's never left her side during majority of her pregnancy and maybe that's his way of coping with what happened years ago but she never once complained or even joked about it so maybe it was her way of coping as well, maybe they both needed this. It's why something so minor like going to the barbershop and then catching an animated movie was so major to them, "I'm worried."

Erin brings her hand up to caress his face and she leans forward to kiss him, "Ew," her son murmured, face twisting up in disgust, "mommy has cooties dad and you're going to catch them!"

She doesn't hesitate to lean forward and pepper smaller kisses across his nose, around his chin, over his eyes and along his forehead while he's protesting loudly the entire time, "…and now," she covers the fact that her sentence is delayed with the beaming smile on her face, so wide it's distracting to both husband and son, "you ha-have them t-too."

Jay reaches for his wife's arm to help her back up, "Are you sure you don't want to come with us? I'm sure his haircut won't even take that long and if you need to stretch your legs during the movie then you can just walk out of the theater. I just," he pauses intentionally and pinches the bridge of his nose, "I don't like leaving you while you're pregnant because the last time I did…"

He doesn't have to finish that thought. She already knows where it's going to lead. And maybe this pregnancy isn't just a do over, it's not just something good that'll replace the memories of something bad, it's actually something good that's here to force them to face, to acknowledge and to work through all the bad. She brings her other hand up to caress his other cheek, "I-I love you."

"I love you too, I love you more than anything," his head fell forward, his forehead now resting against hers, "I just want you to be okay, to always be okay and I have a better chance at guaranteeing that if I'm with you. If I were with you that day then none of that would have happened."

"You…you don't kn-know that."

"I'm armed. I would have shot them down if they so much as raised a hand to you."

"Y…y-you would have ju-just postponed th-the in-inevitable. T…t-they were watching…me, they w-wouldn't have attacked that d-day, t-they would have come…a diff-different day."

A beat of silence passed longer than a second but less than a minute. It drove Liam crazy and now his over excited body was wrapping itself around his dad's leg. His words muffled because his face was pressed into the fabric of his jeans but his parents could assume the gist of what was being said. He's ready to go. He's been patient long enough. But, Jay was still wary about leaving her.

"I can…text you th-the whole time."

He smiled at just how well that sentence had been spoken considering since the attack, since the wires had been removed from her jaw, she'd been struggling with her communication in every sense of the word. It was such a simple sentence yet it sounds so beautiful coming from her lips. He was proud of her and he knows it's very few moments in the last few years that she's been proud of herself and the progress she's made, "If I call, are you going to answer?"

"Yes," he grins at the clarity of the one word, "ju-just don't call m-me in the middle of th-the movie." Jay chuckles at that because he was damn near close to considering it. It definitely went through his mind briefly, maybe video chat with her so she can watch the film from the comforts of their bedroom while he was reassured that she was okay.

Jay presses a kiss against her forehead before finally ridding his son of the torture his parents were apparently inflicting upon him by ignoring his whimpers, "Alright kid," he ruffled the top of his son's head and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was finally quiet, "go get your coat and meet me at the front door," in seconds his son takes off like a track star, "and DON'T open the front door. If you do, we're not going anywhere!" He turns back to face his wife.

"You're su-such a good d-dad."

"And you're definitely the best mom."

She blushes. And his goal in the next three minutes is to make that blush redder.

"And you've come such a long way," he adds, reaching to take a hold of her hands, "There are not many people in this world who could have gone through what you went through and come out on top. I don't know how you feel or how you've felt, I know in the sense of what you have told me, but I can't truly know and understand because I'm not in your shoes but you are my wife, my best friend and my partner in life and I will always be here for you, -forever. I love everything about you, even before we were ever intimate, a speech impediment won't ever change that, ever. You're everything in my eyes," he's successful in flushing her cheeks even more, "and I couldn't have chosen a better mom for my boys," his hand drops back to her stomach, "The you that is truly you, the you right here," his finger gently presses against her chest right beneath where her heart beats, "hasn't changed at all. Your true self has always been there. You're you, the only difference is you just have a harder time speaking than you used to and you didn't let that control you."

Erin reaches into the back pocket of her jeans to withdraw her cell. She wants to respond but she knows when her emotions are exacerbated it triggers her hesitant speech and stutter and raises it from her typical delay to a level that some couldn't understand. So, she chooses to type her response because her speech is already not that great and to add heightened feelings only made it worse. He watches her thumbs fly across the screen, her texting ability has risen to a level that'll put a younger millennial to shame, it's from her years of communicating. By the time she flips the phone around, he's looking down at it and she's looking up at him, "I thought," he starts to read her message out loud, "that you would eventually get tired of me. I thought you would eventually cut your losses especially after we found out that this is as far as my speech will ever improve. I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with and I know I can frustrate you; I sometimes frustrate myself especially when I can't think as fast as I used to or I can't communicate my thoughts correctly. It's so weird Jay, I can think my words, my thoughts don't falter and my thoughts don't stutter but when my brain sends my thoughts of what I want to say to my mouth, it comes out delayed. Or if more than one person is talking at the same time, it's like my brain can't keep up, I can't process it fast enough. And the longer I live with it, the more I come to terms with it, the more I accept that it's my new way of life now."

"…and I'm so proud of you for that, Er. I can't imagine what you're going through and I've tried."

He goes to kiss her and their lips only briefly touch, his palm raises only momentarily to caress her rounded belly before their kid is back in the room, tugging his dad's shirt, "Daddy, please," he practically whines, eyes wide and dimples piercing his cheeks.

"Ugh," he groans, ending the kiss prematurely, "that one," he nods to his wife's stomach, "better not have your dimples or I swear I'm screwed. It's something about them."

Erin smiles, purposely making it big so her dimples can protrude and looking back and forth between his wife and son sends his heart swooning. He kisses her again and this time when he pulls away, he takes their son by the hand and leads him out of the room.

She waits to hear the front door close before making her way out of the room, heading into the kitchen to grab a tub of ice cream she hid in the back of the freezer. She was going to enjoy every moment of alone time because with a five-year-old running around, she hardly got much time to herself. Erin waddles herself into the living room, smiling down as she passes the framed certificate hung on the wall in the hallway of the house they've lived in for a little over a year. She's no longer a detective anymore, unfortunately that's something she'll never be able to do again, but after a few short months working as a receptionist, a new opportunity had fallen into her lap, -private investigation. And considering it's not as active, it isn't some fancy criminal justice job that's portrayed accurately in the movies, it typically consists of her sitting in a car for hours, taking photos or she's home on her computer doing research all day, using her connections with Mouse to find information that her non-tech savvy mind couldn't find on its own.

It isn't her dream but it's something in the field of it. It's good enough. At least it takes her out of the house. At least she's not stuck behind a desk. At least she can make her own hours. At least she has a lot of control. And at least it's much safer than what she used to do.

She still misses being referred to as Detective Lindsay but there's no point in throwing a fit or living in a world of what should have been, this is what is and while it took time for her to accept it, she did eventually accept it.

Erin is suddenly broken out of her reverie when she hears the doorbell ring. Not much time has passed so she automatically assumes it's Jay and he probably forgot to grab his keys. She seals the lid back on the carton of ice cream and stashes it back into the back of the freezer before waddling over to the door, "I-I'm coming," she shouts when the doorbell rings again. She's prepared to crack a joke, to knock him for forgetting his keys when he always teases her for doing the same thing, however the quip she was prepared to speak fell flat when she sees the aged woman standing before her, "Y…y-you." She knew Annie was out of prison on parole. She was kept up-to-date on every aspect of her case and while she was aware of Annie receiving the least amount of time out of everyone responsible and being released on parole a few weeks ago, she was also told that Voight had threatened the woman to stay away from her, "W-what are y-you doing here?"

It kind of feels like déjà vu to Annie. The last time she saw Erin she was heavily pregnant and now years later, she's heavily pregnant once again. She's trapped in a gaze, her eyes focused on the stomach of her former friend as she battles to think of anything else besides what she did. She heard the question and she can tell based on the look on Erin's face, she has no intention of repeating herself. Annie couldn't blame her. She's suffered enough and Annie's presence alone was causing her discomfort. She should apologize for that too.

"I-" Annie doesn't even know where to begin in her apology. It's one thing to hear about the damages, about the lasting effects, but it's something entirely different to see it for yourself, "I-" she finds herself speechless once again when she notices the nasty scars on Erin's face and she knows it's probably in her best interest not to stare, "I-I-"

"D…d-did y-you come here to-to mock me?"

Annie had been so focused on the scars that she missed the stutter, she missed the very obvious change in Erin's speech and by her own words getting caught in her throat, by her own lack of ability to come up with the best apology, Erin had taken that as Annie mocking her. This is already blowing up in her face. She's surprised the door hasn't been slammed on her face or the police haven't been called. This is definitely a violation of her parole; she isn't supposed to have any contact with the victim or her family yet Annie risked all of that just to apologize.

"No," finally she finds her voice, "I came here to apologize," she shuffles her feet, scratches the back of her neck and clears her throat before looking up to meet Erin's eyes, "I know it won't change anything and if I can go back and change everything, believe me, I would. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you. No one deserves that. No one deserves to be hurt like that. And they hit you and kicked your head, dragged you and threw you down that hill and I really wish I could fix this. I came to apologize but I also came to see if there is anything, literally anything I can do to fix this or to make your life easier."

Erin stepped out of the doorway, moving outside because the last thing she'll ever do is invite that woman in her home. Her new house is cleansed. She has no intention of tainting it. She swoops her hair and turns her head to the side to give Annie a better and closer look at the long, ugly scar going down the side of her face. It's the biggest one on her body.

"I-I don't r…r-remember how I-I…got…this." She drops her hair and covers the scar back up as best as she can with the strands, "I u…u-used to-to…avoid l-looking in…the…mirror because it's on-on my f-face. I-I can't h…h-hide it."

"Erin-"

"Y-you…robbed me of t-the w…w-woman I loved," she admits, stepping back to stand beneath the threshold, "I-I will n-never h…h-have her back!" She really wishes she wasn't stuttering right now but the more her voice raises, the more her emotions heighten, the more it kicks in.

"I'm so sorry," Annie's on the verge of tears, the woman practically had an awakening during her time in prison, "I'm so so so so sorry!"

"I-I was learning h-how to-to talk at t-the same time…as my-my…baby," she grips the doorknob so her hand is occupied while the other one rests against her thigh, nails digging deep into the fabric of her pants, "I-I had…to-to hear him ask…his…d-dad why h-his m-mommy ta-talk s-so weird. I-I d…d-don't talk like his friends' mommies and he p-picked up on t-that!"

"Erin-"

"I-I bet you're s-so h…h-happy…now."

"The opposite of that," Annie immediately chines in, "during the five years and six months I was locked up, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I had nightmares almost every night. Then," she takes a deep breath before rolling up her sleeves, "I tried to make them stop," she turns her wrists over to show the dark scars permanently imprinted on her lower wrists, signifying the attempted suicide she vaguely implied, "I'm on parole for another five years and I know I deserved more time. My baby's a young adult now and he won't even return my calls after hearing about my role in something so horrendous." Erin's gaze found itself focused on her slit wrists, the scars there so bold and dark that she can assume Annie must have sliced them pretty deep, "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me, but I thought you had a right to know that I regret my role, I regret not stopping it, not coming to you about any of it beforehand, I regret everything and Erin, you did nothing wrong. I wish things turned out differently," there's a haunted look in Annie's eyes and Erin can tell she truly meant every word she said yet Erin found herself having not an ounce of sympathy, "I was so stupid back then. I'm so stupid now but I'm trying to do better. I can't express how sorry I am and I'm not looking for sympathy, but I thought you had a right to know that I wish I can take back everything I've done. I don't expect you to accept my apology, but-"

"Good," Erin utters that word so clearly and without any hesitation.

"Huh?" Annie looks up after pulling her sleeves back down, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you."

"I-I said good," She retorts, taking a deep breath before finishing her thought, "b-because I don't accept y-your apology. I-I d…d-don't hate you. N-not anymore. I-it takes too m-much energy. I-I don't h-hate you, b-but that doesn't…mean I-I like or-or love you. N…n-no matter how many times y-you say…you…w-wish…you c-could take it-it…back…you can't. I-I don't a-accept your apology. N-now please l…l-leave and n-never come back." She doesn't wait for a response. She simply shuts the door on her ex-friend's face and she doesn't bother opening the door again until her ice cream carton is empty, she's binge watched the last season of some show she got into the days she worked from home and gets a text from Jay asking that she open it.

He carries in a sleeping Liam who apparently dozed off during the last ten minutes of whatever movie they went to go see. He's going to be pretty upset when he wakes up to find out that he's missed it but that's a problem for the morning time. Together, they change their kid into his pajamas while Erin briefs him on Annie's visit, he's silent the whole time, not wanting to say anything because he won't be able to talk as low and as gentle as she currently is so he keeps his comments to himself until their kid is tucked into bed, nightlight is on and the door to his bedroom is cracked open, "I'm going to call her parole officer."

"J-Jay…"

"No, she was told to stay away. She showed up here once. What's to stop her from doing it again?"

"I h-honestly don't…think…s-she'll t-try…anything. Y-you didn't see her, but just t-take my-my word f-for it." He wants to trust her word but he also wants to protect her. She can't read his mind but she can sense where his thoughts are leading him, "I-if she comes back, t-then we c-call."

"What if it's too late? What if she tries something the next time she comes back?"

"I-I'm armed. I-I'll shoot her."

He bites his lip. He contemplates his pregnant wife being forced to protect herself with a gun that's collecting dust in her gun safe. He uses his regularly; she hardly needs hers. She's a licensed gun owner and sometimes he forgets it considering she never really takes it out of the locked safe.

Jay moves to stand in front of her. He reaches to intertwine his fingers with hers before leaning forward to press his lips against hers, "After all she's done to you, after what she's caused you, you still remain the better person, the bigger person. I don't know how you do it Erin Halstead," his hands pull her closer, pulling her arms around his stomach and her hands clasp behind his back as she moves her head in to rest against his shoulder, "for someone who has had her entire world shift on its axis in a matter of hours, for someone who has had to fight so hard to get back just a semblance of normalcy, who has had to deal with so much physical pain, betrayal, rejection and mental anguish all in the span of a few months, you amaze me so much. I don't say this enough but I am so fucking proud of you, Erin. There's no one I know that's stronger, wiser and is an all-around beautiful person inside and out. No one would have faulted you for wanting her to rot yet you chose to take a different path," he could feel her head shift upon his shoulder, her lips brushing against his neck, "there's never been a day that I regret putting that ring on your finger."

"S-sending her b-back to-to prison doesn't c-change what happened to-to me."

"I know," he tightens his arms around her waist, her stomach pressed against his and he smiles when he feels their baby kick, reminding him of a new life, a new beginning that'll soon enough be brought into the world, "but keeping her out doesn't change it either."

He can feel her smile against his neck. Her lips still rest there.

"Touché."

"I love it when you agree with me," he whispers just as she pulls away. She takes a step back, arms crossing as her hands go to grab the bottom of her shirt to lift up and throw over her shoulder.

"A-and I-I love you for-for never giving u-up on-on me Jay Halstead," she brings her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning each one, "f-for being patient, f-for l-loving me, f-for taking care of me, f-for fathering my babies, f-for s-staying by my side at-at the h-hospital, for making s-sure everyone r…r-responsible was caught, for being h-honest with me, f-for protecting me," she looks up to meet his eyes, "a-and for a-always looking at me l-like that."

The way he looks at her is the exact same way he looked at her before the attack. That never changed. The way he touched her didn't change. The way he made love to her never changed. And as she brought her lips to his and her hands to his belt buckle, she knew that no matter what life throws at them, he'll always have her and she'll always have him. It's a bond like no other. A bond that can never be broken, not after being cemented with marriage vows, a life-threatening attack, a struggling journey of healing and recovery and two -eventually three- kids. Life was solid. Their love is firm. And even if a wrench gets thrown into their new altered axis, it's the strength in their love that has neither of them worried because they know that as long as they have each other, they can overcome absolutely anything.


End file.
